We live in a world of the sun.
The light casting eternal shadows
Until it hides us who aren't brave enough to shine.
I was one who didn't come out,
Didn't want people, didn't want to be alive, but deep inside, I
Know I wanted the help, wanted to feel better.
I had options. Suck it up. I could talk. I
Could end it all. My weapon? A cold razor blade, the
Feel of its edge, teeth biting, nibbling,
So soothing, deeper, fangs sinking, until
Terrible ugly scars took their place over creamy white flesh.
What had possessed me to do it?
If I had struck a vein, it' over.
I drank acetone; it stung and sizzled against my hot throat.
Had I wanted to truly die? If I had
Done it, would my family and friends even care?
It was an impossible feeling.
No, I was too dramatic and self-centered to think right. Therapy helps,
One hour at a time. I threw the blade away, where it
Deserves to be. I still struggle, but I can overcome my
Depression and anxiety.
I'm proud to say I failed. I am
Glad I found help.
I wish I could have found recovery sooner, but I
Fought it out with the advice to get
Out of my mind and into my life.