"Counselor"

"Counselor" by Zarinah Alarcon

 

I’m that girl that sits up

late at night with thoughts

constantly running through my head.

I’m proud to say that I’ve had some

very negative thoughts.

Do you want to know why I’m proud?

 

It’s because many of those thoughts

involved my trying to figure out how I

could make it an accident.

How I could disappear on “accident.”

How might my life end on “accident”?

 

Some nights I struggled with myself.

I would frantically search for a pencil sharpener

Just so I could disassemble

the screws from the razor, the razor from the plastic.

Whatever happened next would be “accidental”.

 

There have only been two nights

That I’ve been able to find that

sharpener. Then, it disappeared.

In those two nights, I learned one thing.

Dull razors hurt worse than sharp ones.

 

I speak to a counselor, twice a week.

I’ve been asked questions like,

“Have you ever thought of hurting yourself?”,

and “Have you ever thought of killing yourself?”

To both questions, I answered “who hasn’t?”

 

Each day that I’ve sought help for myself,

only ended with the response of,

“Happiness is a choice.”

Yeah, and so is waking up each morning.

I’ve started to feel like no one hears my voice.

My mood changed, my attitude changed, and

some have gone as far as to call it depression.

Some out of experience,

Others out of plain common sense.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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