So, I promised you something today. It’s National Poetry Month and this poem holds a whole lot of meaning for me. This one is a bit longer than what I usually write, but it’s long for a reason. You’ll see. I care a lot about mental health and the awareness around it, but I’ve never really talked about mine.
Not only am I breaking that boundary today, but as my readers, I’m letting you in. Because I’ve got a lot to say, and maybe it’s about time I said it.
Without further ado, A Life Obliged. Let me know what you think.
Sometimes I really love cancelling plans,
it’s not that I cancel them if I have no reason to—
my guilty conscience is far too heavy for that—
but if I have a reason or I find some excuse not to go,
you can be sure as hell my fingers are moving like lightning
when I type out the words, “I can’t tonight…”
Don’t forget the sad face at the end,
wouldn’t want anyone thinking that I truly
didn’t want to go.
Trust me when I say that, the second I send that message,
it’s a relief of a weight I cannot explain.
It’s a diffused time bomb
of hands that do not stop shaking
and a mind that will not stop racing
even when the finish line
was a couple miles
Because sometimes, this life feels like a song I’m trying to sing,
and I swear to God that I’m the one who wrote it.
But every time the chords start playing
and the bass bumps blindly through my chest,
I open my mouth to the words I should be saying,
and it turns out that
I forgot the rest.
My entire world is a play I scripted myself;
I filled each and every role with lives of the ones I love.
And I feel that love, I do.
It’s just some days I wish you knew,
and the hope
and the need to keep going,
it isn’t strong enough to make it all the way
to a place
where I might believe it.
That place can be kind of hard to find sometimes,
especially when you don’t see any of the worth
that’s supposed to belong to you.
Instead, I lost two friends in the last year:
two beautiful, incredible, extraordinary people.
The kind that looked at life like it were a challenge
and they were the Barney Stinsons of the world, so
of course, they would accept it—
to see who could live
At only nineteen, I think they lived
than I ever will.
And it makes me wonder, why this world
would take away two people here,
and leave behind someone like me,
who doesn’t even know how
Not like this.
I’m the kind of girl who gets up in the morning,
wishing I didn’t, thinking maybe tomorrow
When this world,
it handles me like a play toy.
seem to be the only ones
handling the strings.
A tug this way, a thought that way,
I’m doing whatever it wants.
All I can manage is to nod,
let it control me like a marionette
where the strings tie back to my heart,
as even more hold close to my body,
pulling on me so tightly
that I have not a say,
not a care,
not a want.
Not a breath that I call my own.
Because not a single one
of those damn strings
You see, suicide for me is like the ace in my back pocket,
it’s game that I chose not to play
every single day I wake up.
Because it’s not that I want to die,
no, for that would be far too simple…
It’s that I look at who I am, the people I love, the way I live
and I just don’t want to exist
I need a reset button for the last time I saved this game of life;
back before I remembered how unfair this world can be
to the people who might not be the majority,
or how easy it is for men in power to get away with taking things
that do not belong to them because the word “no” wasn’t said
maybe it’s how little it takes to lose people we love because
we can’t control that either,
and how hard it can be when every one of us is fighting something
yet, in this society,
not a single one of us feels
like we’re allowed to be.
I just want to know why.
It’s not that I don’t love you,
no it’s not that at all.
It’s that I don’t think
I love me
Sometimes, I wonder
if the only thing I know about living
is how to spend every day of my life
trying to convince myself
that I don’t want
If we are so depressed, so beaten down and
broken through and
by everything we are turning out to be,
and diligently abiding by the rules of an unspoken pact that says
we need to keep going,
that the suicidal thoughts become relief,
or the absence of pain is terrifying…
If we are so ready
to pull a trigger finger,
to pop a cap,
to inhale invisibility…
Then why are we here,
still moving, still going,
trying so damn hard
See you Friday.