survivor?
my dear you are gravely mistaken.
i think the word you are looking for is failure.

every breath, every heartbeat,
every touch that brings me back to that cold winter night,
feeling helpless in a body that is not my own
is a sick reminder of how i am still alive.

while most people my age were exploring their
favorite coffee shops i was exploring all the ways
i could possibly end my life just so i could forget the pain.

i still think about being 16 and sitting in physics class
furiously calculating the height i would have to jump from
in order to reach terminal velocity before hitting the ground
and then going home and looking over the balcony
of my 13th floor apartment and praying i would find
just one second of courage and jump.

all of this despair happened over the course of that one cold winter night.
it was the night i was taught i had no voice or choice.
and when i woke up the next morning nothing made sense anymore
because i could see the sun rise out of my window
but my heart and mind were still stuck in the dark
and i have never seen the light since.