I wonder how many times you have climbed into a tub and thought,
"Wow maybe I could drown in hopes of escaping my life."
I dont know how many of you have thought that but let's just say a few.
One: I step into the tub with my left foot and the water is immensely warm.
Downing pills couldn't be that bad right now.
Maybe I could grab the bottle without anybody noticing.
I wonder if I could make my own concoction of medicine would suffice.
Concoction is a funny word.
Two: I step in with my right foot and everything is tingling from the heat.
If I charge my phone from the plug over there by the sink,
Could I electrocute myself?
I wonder how bad electrocution hurts.
Deep fried food would be nice right now.
Three: I sink into the tub and pull my knees to my chest.
if I lay back now and fight myself from breathing,
Could I do it?
I wonder how long it takes somebody to drown themselves in a tub while fighting their instinct to survive.
I could adapt and grow gills.
Four: I lay back into my tub and watch the water rise.
The water is warm and my body is heavy.
I can't **** myself because my headstone will be something sad,
My funeral will play music I'll hate listening to as a ghost,
People I don't even know will show up.
What if my ex shows up?
Five: I sink lower into the water until I can no longer hear clearly and it tickles the side of my eyes.
What's the point in breathing.
Breathing is so weird.
Why do I have to maintain a body that's going to die anyways?
I wonder what dying feels like.
Six: I've been in here for an hour. Maybe I should get out.
This water has turned mildly lukewarm.
I'd like to stay but I'm getting kinda cold and I like the warmth.
Could I just empty half and add more hot water?
I am sitting in a pool of my own dirt.
Great.
Seven: I'm climbing out while simultaneously pulling the stopper.
Theres so many different ways to say that you or somebody is dying;
Kick the bucket.
Pull the plug.
One foot in the grave.
Bite the dust.
Croak.
Some of them are kinda funny.
Eight: Realizing that I love baths but hate the thoughts that come with the quiet bathroom.
I'm exhausted.
The mental kind of exhausted.
Can I stop now?
Can I just lay down and close my eyes?
My anxiety is overworking me.
Nine: I open my door with a stiff towel and a cold room.
I love the quiet but the quiet kills.
I love my mind yet the way it works is poisonous to me.
Ten: Nothing.
Sitting.
Alone.
In my empty bedroom.

run away
from the
pretty lies
the in-between
fake promises
the guilty
eye contacts
the half-hearted
apologies.

I wrote a poem for you

but I keep changing the words

because I'm learning

which road
difficult to choose
the heart or mind

she said, he said,
what’s in between?
the hurt, the anger and the painful reality,
that in the eyes of many,
i am no longer,
the one who cares,
the one who loves truly and deeply,
the one with a sky full of dreams,
in the end,
in other people’s eyes,
i am not even me,
i am someone who they’ve painted me to be.

I see you happier without me,
and honestly that kills me.
It kills me to know that you've found comfort in those who you told me you disliked.
It's weird how through time, I watched you change into someone you told me you never would be.
It crazy how time can change people.
It changed you and it changed me; it changed us.
But, I'm somehow still holding on to you, through my memories of you.
And, one day or someday, we might cross paths again.
Maybe by then,
time will have completely changed us both.