75. Just a thought. A whisper. A what-if.
74. I test the weight of silence, hold it in my hands.
73. Everyone talks. No one listens.
72. I count cracks in the ceiling, pretend they are escape routes.
71. My name sounds foreign when they say it.
70. I make a list of things I’ll miss. It’s short.
69. I start another list—things I won’t. It’s endless.
68. Someone asks if I’m okay. I forget how to answer.
67. I laugh too hard. It feels like breaking.
66. I cry in the shower. The water drowns the sound.
65. Sleep is a stranger.
64. I lose my appetite. Even hunger forgets me.
63. The mirror doesn’t recognize me anymore.
62. The days blur, smear together like wet ink.
61. I hear my own voice and wonder if it’s mine.
60. I rip old photos apart, scatter them like dead leaves.
59. My heartbeat is a drum in an empty hall.
58. I start talking to shadows. They answer back.
57. I see movement in the corners of my eyes.
56. The walls breathe when I’m not looking.
55. My skin feels too tight.
54. My thoughts are too loud.
53. I try to scream but forget how.
52. I write a note, then another, then another.
51. I set them on fire. The flames flicker like old memories.
50. Halfway there. A relief. A curse.
49. My hands shake. I clench them into silence.
48. I step outside. The world moves without me.
47. The stars blink. I wonder if they’re watching.
46. I lose another hour to the void.
45. My name no longer belongs to me.
44. My body feels borrowed.
43. I stop answering messages.
42. They stop sending them.
41. I bite my tongue to taste something real.
40. I forget what my voice sounds like.
39. Music doesn’t move me anymore.
38. The wind howls. I howl back.
37. I lose track of days.
36. The countdown is all that’s left.
35. I lock the door.
34. I lose the key.
33. I stop checking the time.
32. Time stops checking on me.
31. The air is thick. I choke on nothing.
30. They say people can tell. No one does.
29. My chest feels empty, like I misplaced something vital.
28. I press my ear to the ground, listen for a heartbeat.
27. Nothing.
26. Nothing.
25. The sky is too bright. It hurts my eyes.
24. The moon is too full. It mocks me.
23. I turn off my phone.
22. No one notices.
21. I am a ghost before I am even gone.
20. I stop pretending.
19. I stop hoping.
18. I stop waiting for someone to save me.
17. I stop wanting to be saved.
16. I stop.
15. The countdown is a prayer.
14. The countdown is a promise.
13. The countdown is all I have.
12. The weight of it is crushing.
11. I welcome it.
10. I can’t remember why I started.
9. I can’t remember who I was before.
8. The world is underwater. I am drowning.
7. I let the tide take me.
6. I let go.
5. The choice is already made.
4. I exhale.
3. I close my eyes.
2. The world fades.
1.
I once made a countdown for myself, writing a poem for each day I was still alive. I’m still here, for now.