when i was five
i used to sit on the floor in my kitchen
and wonder what dying was like
i would pick up a fruit knife
put the blade to my skin
if only to feel the cool metal
and before a single drop of blood was drawn from my delicate veins
i would shove the knife back into the drawer
and run off somewhere else as if it never happened
wondering what would’ve happened
if the knife had slipped

i didn’t want to bleed
i didn’t want to die
i just wanted to know what would happen
would someone miss me?
would someone cry?

when i was ten
i used to sit in my bathtub
and wonder what drowning was like
i wouldnt let the water drain after a shower
and i would lie there
until goosebumps littered my skin
the water running cold
droplets from my wet hair trickling down my back
and before i could fully submerge myself in remnants of shampoo suds
i would pull the plug on the drain and wrap myself in a towel
slip into my room as if it never happened
wondering what would’ve happened
if i had fallen asleep there

i didn’t want to drown
i didn’t want to die
i just wanted to know what would happen
would someone miss me?
would someone cry?

now i’m fifteen
and i sit on the floor in my room
drowning in a pool of tears
and i wonder if i could just disappear
erase the signs of my existence quietly
so no one remembered me

run off to a world where i’m not tired
not physically
or emotionally
or mentally
or academically
and although i try to fight off the dehabilitating fatigue
as i deplete the last ounces of my energy
i wonder what would happen
if i succumbed to the exhaustion

i think i want to disappear
i think i might want to die
but i want to know what would happen
would you miss me?
would i cry?