I'm too old to have dreams.
I fall asleep so easily now,
no  interruptions
no thoughts
no more.

Let my life be my suicide note.
Remember the happy times
we shared together.
Don't focus on these last words.
They're not the real me.
They're flat thoughts
with deflated meaning.
They're all I can think of
in this last moment.

How I lived was who I was:
patient,
compassionate,
thoughtful,
and creative.

No one ever truly knew
the constant thoughts
that hollowed out my mind.
I didn't let you.

Please don't let this one mistake
change who I was to you.
Please remember me as
a kind man who liked to write.

I'm discouraged
and ashamed of myself
so I binge and binge until
I'm discouraged
and ashamed of myself.

What can I say?
What can I possibly say
That will make any sense?
I am living a lie,
tapping words into my phone
that are selfish
and cruel,
all the while smiling
and being polite.

You have all been so kind.
I wish you could understand
how much you've meant to me.
I love you all
that is why
I feel physically ill
thinking about the pain I'll cause.
Right in the pit of my stomach
I'm crushed.

I see my family soar,
their confidence spellbinding
I love them all so deeply.
Why am I doing this?
Why am I being so hurtful?
Why am I sending them hurling off course?
I can't explain.

It just is.

I am sorry.
I am truly sorry.

Living is not about creating the future
or fixing the past.
It's about opening yourself up
to the possibilities of the moment.

Every day I'm defying death.
Every day I'm more exhausted,
fighting the fight
that never ends.
I'm ashamed of my thoughts;
frightened by their intent.
I just need to hold on
just one more day,
every day
just one more day.