I used to keep a suicide note in my wallet in case I ever found a building with a view beautiful enough to be my last.
It was a hastily written apology for never being who everyone thought I could be.
It between the faded blue lines, gentle wishes kissed the page, hoping someday someone would see them and they would come true. The middle paragraph carved a hollow spot in my chest as I wrote it.
"My friends. I am sorry. I know you'll never really understand. I hope that you all can forgive me for meeting you in the first place. I love you and I'm sorry I can never truly express it, I know I have class but it feels okay that I can finally be free of them, and you can be free of me."
The words were smudged with bits of alcohol that had dripped from the bottles mouth when I pulled it from mine.
God how I couldn't wait for it all to end.
Then, I met you. I wrote poem after poem hoping youd get the hint. You were my building, my end. Your eyes, the final sky id see, your smile, my last sunset.
I took one of the peoms from my drawer, the first line reads,
"Her eyes, the forest. The greenest life that could ever grow."
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:24 PM UTC
I used to keep a suicide note in my wallet in case I ever found a building with a view beautiful enough to be my last.
It was a hastily written apology for never being who everyone thought I could be.
It between the faded blue lines, gentle wishes kissed the page, hoping someday someone would see them and they would come true. The middle paragraph carved a hollow spot in my chest as I wrote it.
"My friends. I am sorry. I know you'll never really understand. I hope that you all can forgive me for meeting you in the first place. I love you and I'm sorry I can never truly express it, I know I have class but it feels okay that I can finally be free of them, and you can be free of me."
The words were smudged with bits of alcohol that had dripped from the bottles mouth when I pulled it from mine.
God how I couldn't wait for it all to end.
Then, I met you. I wrote poem after poem hoping youd get the hint. You were my building, my end. Your eyes, the final sky id see, your smile, my last sunset.
I took one of the peoms from my drawer, the first line reads,
"Her eyes, the forest. The greenest life that could ever grow."
