The blade looks so tempting and I think:
Here I go again
Every year I consider it:
Relapsing, or maybe just..
Ending it all, here and now
And I'm on the roof again
Looking to the sky and wondering:
What is waiting for me up there?
All the stars calling out for me
You can end your pain, join us, now
See, those pills, they will kill you
I want to do it, leave this world
So I write my letter, say goodbye
Hoping they will carry on
One day they might be what I never was
Perhaps some will understand my why
Even though they never went through the same
.
☆
Looking back at where I was so many times is horrifying. On my good days I can't understand how I could write that letter. I'm shocked how I could think the way I did. And then I do again.
B
ut I don't think I will ever attempt (again?).
Recovery isn't about making the thoughts go away, at least not instantly, but about learning how to deal with them. They will fade, let it be urges to self harm, plans about suicide or anything else. I don't know if they will ever fully go away, but that's okay. I already get them so much less.
There always is hope.
Even if you don't see or feel it, there always is the (probable) possibility to get better.
YOU ARE READING
It does get better.
PoetryPeople say it will get better. But to be fair, most of them never were in your place. They say you will get happy again, but how can they know? I've struggled with trauma, mental illnesses and self harm for many years. These are (mostly) poems - abo...
