I spoke to Scarlet this afternoon.
I hadn't seen her in such a long time.
funny thing is,
this is the first time I've ever spoken to her.
I've always liked to pretend she wasn't real,
was never there, and only a figment of my imagination.
but now I've finally found out
what she thinks of me.
what I've always thought of myself.
that, she whispers
was always the truth.

t   r   u   t   h.
what is that anymore?*

"whatever you can imagine is real."

well now I know.

I'm not sure
how much longer I can hold on
pretending everything was okay
or is okay
or will be okay
when in reality,
nothing is.
why do I keep trying to survive,
and continue telling myself I can
when I really, definitely, truly
cannot?
well now
I'll begin admitting.
they say that acceptance is the first step to recovery.
but who cares what they say anymore?
what if the only recovery left
for me
is death?
(the only escape)
well
if this doesn't serve as a suicide note,
I'm not sure anything else could be.