Tag: Seeking Happiness

Surrendered

Strong and pure, you face

The eye of the storm,

Cause this ever-frozen hope

To melt, and feel warmth.

Walking through blockades

As if they’re dust,

And I start to think

You may be more than moths and rust.

I am the leviathan;

The end of times.

But you treat me like a still small voice,

And disregard my angry rhymes.

I yell at you to go away,

Brandishing lies.

You take my hand and choose to stay,

For all of time.

I raise my frozen wasteland face,

The battle done.

Snow pelting down like glittering lace,

I look up to see the sun.

My weapons melt

To warmed rain,

It seems you’ve won.

I surrender all my fears to you,

You are The (my) One.

It’s Selfish to ask me to Live

I tried to kill myself. It didn’t work. I keep wondering… was I even close?

Why is it up to someone else to determine what is right for my life? Why is it up to others to tell me that it’s wrong for me to want to die? It’s a conflict of interest when family says it’s selfish for me to try to kill myself. If I’m in pain, isn’t it selfish of them to ask me to stay, to spare them from pain?

Mine is only one life. I want to go out as inconsequentially as a candle. People who don’t speak to me or spend time with me in my painful moments tell me I have to stay. It’s what they need, it’s what they want… but if they aren’t interested, they can’t be bothered to give their time to me, would they even notice if I was gone? This reminds me of my incessant need to shop and inability to throw away purchases I’ve never used.

I’ve heard it said that people who think about suicide aren’t necessarily going to kill themselves. When people decide to kill themselves they are often calm or at peace. This is what I felt. A sudden peace, knowing that this is what was right.

Afterward, I only regretted it not working. I may have been at peace or perhaps was so detached from the event that I had very little feelings toward it. Leaving this world was going to be harder than I thought.

I didn’t want to face my boyfriend. He kept asking to see me and I kept making excuses. When I tried to cancel on him for the millionth time in the course of three days, he called me out. I let him come. I left the door unlocked and lay in bed. When he entered my room I looked at him, emotionlessly.

I couldn’t bare to hold the weight of his pain. I rolled over uninterested and detached from his feelings. Why didn’t how I felt matter.

He climbed into bed and held me and cried.

It took me a few days but suddenly it hit me. If he had tried to kill himself, how would I feel?