I go to the mall with 5 other people.
We have an enjoyable time.
I feel okay the duration of the visit.
Until the end, and I am not asked to be in any of the photos.
Until I realize I am still not a friend,
When I realize I still have no friends.
When I realize I’m not good enough.
When we get into the car and all I can think of is wanting to go home.
And then I remember how depressed I am at home as well.
And then I remember how my one person is going through a hard time.
And then I remember that there are no friends at home either.
And I imagine the ways to die in China.
I imagine all the ways to **** myself and maybe the only option is walking to the bridge and jumping off.
And maybe my body would be lost and then my family would think I was missing.
Maybe I should leave a note, I think.
And I try to feel numb. I try so hard.
I make it to the room and I turn the fan on so no one knows I am crying. I shower so no one hears but ******* ******* it, it is so hard to not take the razor in the shower and cut myself.
And ******* ******* it i made it so long.
And ****.
I made it years and I still just want to die.
I still crave and crave and need to harm myself.
Until I don’t. Because I didn’t get this far to cut my legs up anymore.
Until I sit In my bed and ******* ball my eyes out while I write a poor excuse of words complied into a post on hello poetry.
Until I listen to all the people in the common room chatting and laughing and living.
And I remember all the famous and amazing and accomplished people who still committed suicide.
And I recall those who got help that never worked.
And I remember the days before when I thought I was finally getting better.
And I can’t imagine living a life where I will always imagine myself walking off of a bridge.