Now I’m here.
Still breathing, somehow.
Skin full of bandages.
Bones that don’t work right.
Machines that beep
like they’re disappointed I made it back.
They say I’m lucky.
That I survived.
That it wasn’t my time.
But if it wasn’t,
why does it still feel like
I left the real me on the concrete?
Dad didn’t come.
She did,
but only to sign papers
and shake her head.
Her words still burn:
”Guess you’re not even good at this.”
I thought it would feel like a clean slate.
Like waking up would mean
something changed.
But it didn’t.
I’m still the same hollow girl,
just stitched back together,
like that’s enough.
They gave me a new journal
with blank pages
and hopeful prompts.
But I don’t want hope.
I want to know
why being alive
still hurts more than falling ever did.
I don’t know if I’ll write again.
Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is the only thing
I had left to say.
I jumped.
And I survived.
But that doesn’t mean
I’m okay.
Jul 26, 2025
Jul 26, 2025 at 8:49 PM UTC
Now I’m here.
Still breathing, somehow.
Skin full of bandages.
Bones that don’t work right.
Machines that beep
like they’re disappointed I made it back.
They say I’m lucky.
That I survived.
That it wasn’t my time.
But if it wasn’t,
why does it still feel like
I left the real me on the concrete?
Dad didn’t come.
She did,
but only to sign papers
and shake her head.
Her words still burn:
”Guess you’re not even good at this.”
I thought it would feel like a clean slate.
Like waking up would mean
something changed.
But it didn’t.
I’m still the same hollow girl,
just stitched back together,
like that’s enough.
They gave me a new journal
with blank pages
and hopeful prompts.
But I don’t want hope.
I want to know
why being alive
still hurts more than falling ever did.
I don’t know if I’ll write again.
Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is the only thing
I had left to say.
I jumped.
And I survived.
But that doesn’t mean
I’m okay.
10:47am / I have a horrible pounding headache
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