The Blob

Suicide is slow. Suicide begins as a small blob, sitting in the dark corners of your mind, black and heavy with emotion. Suicide is always there, always sitting, always whispering. It grows with each negative thought you create, metastasizing until it produces arms and a louder voice. Suicide drags itself through your mind, scratching at the floors of your subconscious, pulling itself across your mind a little more each day. It never leaves that dark corner, it brings that dark corner with it, slowly spreading the blackness until there is nothing left but that single dark corner. As time passes, Suicide grows. It takes over your mind, obtaining control over your eyes, forcing you to see every high building, every knotted rope, every razor blade, every pill. It attacks your chest, taking hold of your heart and twisting. It grabs your lips and stretches them into a thin, curved line, only opening to breathe lies about how your lack of sleep is the reason for your lack of enthusiasm. Suicide thrives on the seemingly silly opinions of others and how your mind contorts their opinions into your own self worth. And you let it. Because Suicide is not something to be fought single handedly. Suicide is huge. It is unforgiving. Suicide does not care about your skin color, your ethnicity, your religion, your shoe size, or what you had for breakfast. Suicide disguises itself as sickness, as an unorganized dresser, as a closed bedroom door, as a bathroom light on at 2 AM. It is invisible to most and not a problem to the rest. Suicide is an impending battle that seems inevitable to the soldiers fighting it. It will take over your life. And it will kill you. But, if we all open our minds and arms, we may find that Suicide is beatable. With love and acceptance, with compassion and understanding, we may be able to help the ones we love, or simply the ones we know, defeat this blob. With the right help and correct timing, we can all help those fighting this exhausting battle. If we come together, hand in hand, and discuss this common topic, together we can shrink this overgrown tumor down into a pea sized drop.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741