Author’s note: A few months ago, an email appeared in my inbox. The sender submitted an unexpected, yet important question. He asked, “What is the easiest way to **** myself?” My answer was unorthodox, but it came from my own experience and pain. I have stared Death in the eye before, and I knew exactly how to answer this sensitive question. This poem was my response.


Each time that my mind was finally ready to end it all,
I stood on the end of a bridge, ready to jump.
It always seemed like it would be quick and cheap.
The pain would end in seconds.
It is bold and dramatic, and makes a statement to the ones that have harmed you.
Avoid jumping into oncoming traffic, and no one else’s life is at risk.
In truth, there are worse ways to die.
I’m not gonna tell you to “better” your life. That’s dumb.
You don’t want to hear that s*.
People DO NOT understand what it feels like to want to die.
They do not understand the pain of despair, in its purest form.
They think they do. But no.
Craving death, is a dinner for one.
You don’t need someone to tell you that you are loved.
You don’t need reminded that you have your whole life ahead of you.
Sometimes it feels like I’m being smothered by people.
Smothered in fake love and care.
And I can’t deal with it…I CAN’T BREATHE!!!
People only pretend to care now because they know we’re not scared anymore.
They know we have stared Death directly in the eye,
as he beckoned for us,
and we didn’t run. We smiled.
We stared back at Death and said,
“Ok.”
You don’t need to be smothered with love.
You don’t need reminded of life.
You need space.
You need to be left alone, to think. To breathe.
Be at one, with your thoughts.
That’s where my mind was, when I stood on the edge of that bridge.
Breathing. At one, with myself.
In that moment of beauty and peace……I jumped.
…
Time froze.
…
…
At once, I remembered what being alone felt like. Truly alone.
It was just me. Floating in air. No one else.
But amazingly, that felt ok. I was ok.
Even though I was alone, I was not lonely.
This crisis my mind was enduring, was only temporary. Fleeting, like life itself.
This just one tiny moment, in the grand scheme of things.
I was wrong. I was SO wrong.
I realized, in that moment, as the water grew closer…
That everything in my life that I’d thought was unfixable, was totally fixable —
except for having just jumped.
Yet, here I am. Alive.
A survivor.
Some broken bones, and a couple of fishermen serving as my guardian angels—
and I was just fine.
And I was so happy. It was not my time to go.
When I stared at Death and told him, “ok”,
Death stared back at me, shook his head, and said:
“Not today. You are not finished yet.”
If it’s your time to go, then I’m not going to tell you to stay.
But while your standing on the edge of the bridge —
And you look at your life, and put that moment into perspective.
Remind yourself:
This is the only moment you won’t be able to take back.
Look down, off the edge of that bridge,
of your darkness…
and turn around.
Smile real big,
and walk away.
“Not today. You are not finished yet.”

~*~

Final note: A week after I responded with this poem, I received a message that simply read:
“Not today. I am not finished yet. Thank you.”