when I told the only person I trusted
about all the times I tried
and failed
to die,
they told me that I can't have meant it
judging by the fact
that I am still here.

I did mean it.
and my broken mind
and my burning stomach
wish that I didn't.
I wish that I didn't.
but I also wish that I meant it more.
maybe then everything would stop
hurting so much.
maybe then I wouldn't regret failing.