waiting for death...
the empty bottle of pills layed on my bedside table,
so much pressure in my head it feels like it's going to explode.
my chest with a pain so indescribable,
my head starting to get foggy,
first few minutes...
laying in the back of my fathers car,
my head in my sisters lap with my face wet from her tears,
rushing to the ER,
everybody terrified yet i was at peace,
i felt like i could finally be free,
from all the pain and heartaches.
I felt relaxed, undisturbed, ready for death.
first few hours...
laying in the hospital bed,
alive.
i stare at the ceiling with a blank expression,
ignoring all doctors, nurses, therapists, and social workers
that try to talk to me or ask questions.
i barely spoke a word.
they inspected my wrists for cuts,
faint scars, unfound fresh cuts on my hips.
this was never addressed or even commented on by my parents.
my sister held my hand constantly,
sat in that chair with no intentions of leaving,
to comfort me.
first day back...
i had not been at school for afew days,
rumors had gone around,
friends who knew how unstable i was had been talking,
people would approach me and ask what happened,
i got weird looks and stares,
i got so many questions.
first week...
i sat in my chair in the classroom in a shocked silence,
i didn't speak a word at school for a whole week.
a blank stare on my face all day,
constantly wishing that i was never brought into that hospital,
wishing they didn't save me.
first month...
i slept so much yet never felt rested
my sister felt like the only person giving me the support and love that i needed,
the only person to text me throughout the day,
the only person to keep me company,
the only person to get me to speak about how i was feeling,
the only person to remind me every single day how much she loved me.
second month...
i hold back my tears in english.
as we watch a movie about a girl that commited suicide.
third month...
i let small things get to me while locked in my room,
feeling so numb that i slit my skin so i can feel something,
so i can see if i'm still alive or not.
fourth month...
i want to give up again
fifth month...
i get prescribed medications for depression
people don't understand what it's like
to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken
to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken
to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
yet every word has been spoken,
slowly becoming immune to my emotions,
with my lungs incapable of letting air out,
with the pain buried within and unable to turn into tears.
to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open.
now...
i am still healing, on my way to recovery
i am reminded of all the pain i've endured through the years
it used to be etched into my body
i regret it yet also embrace it
because i am strong,
and i will survive.