I constantly complain
about my hatred for society

because a few years ago,
I tried to **** myself.

the only souvenirs
I brought home
weren't purchased
in the hospital gift shop.

they were etched
into my body,
unwanted
but permanent.

I will never
give birth now.
I'll never hold
a child in my womb,
and it's possible
that I'll never hold
a child in my arms.

my body no longer
functions like that.
I'm broken.

and the worst part
is not having
anyone to blame.
I did this to myself.

a few days ago,
I talked to my brother
on the phone, and

I told him I was thankful
for my suicide attempt.

he was confused
because that day hurt me.
it destroyed me.
it broke me.

if that day
had never happened,
I'd have no scars and
I could still have children
and right now,
I wouldn't be writing
this sad poem.

but I wasn't lying to him.

despite how utterly
horrible it's been,
and despite how
it still affects me,

I am thankful
for my suicide attempt.

because if I still
had to call my friends
panicking over
a late period,

if I still had to worry
about that every month,

I might only be eating
one meal a day.

I might have to
sell my old jewelry.

I might resort to
stealing money.

I wouldn't want to
but if I didn't,
I would never be able
to afford tampons.

I am grateful
for my infertility,
and for almost dying,

because I know that I
wouldn't have the money
to pay for tampons.

that's ****** up.

and somehow
you're still wondering
why I hate our society.