Poetry, Quotes, and Ramblings

When You Killed Yourself

when you killed yourself, did you realize what would happen?

did you think of your mother's screams as she bolted through the door, eyes glued to your lifeless body that wouldn't move even when she shrieked for you to "wake up! wake up!"? she keeps screaming and shaking with tears streaming down her face as your dad runs, hearing the commotion. he tries to pull your mother off your dead body but eventually collapses, crying, his tears, and your mother's tears, and your blood all mixing together. he can't bear to see his beloved child he watched grow up lying on the floor, eyes unseeing. he loved you so much and now you're dead; gone forever and never, ever coming back. your little brother peeks into the room and takes halting steps toward your body. you're dead; he can see that, but he still can't help but to hold your cold hand and ask "why? why?" over and over again.

did you think of the funeral? and how your family sat at the dinner table afterward, eyes averted, but painfully aware of the empty chair where you were supposed to be sitting. the scraping of utensils is the only thing heard, the room devoid of your laughter, which they will never hear again. your mother's gaze flickers to your chair and her lips tremble before she flees the room, sobbing. your father runs after her, but your brother remains, shoving food into his mouth as if that could make him feel better. he stares at your chair for hours until your father coaxes him to bed. his pillow is wet that night.

did you think of your family? they can barely look at each other because everything reminds them of you and everything hurts too much.

you thought your mother didn't love you because she always yelled at you to do your homework, was too busy to talk to you, and didn't say "I love you" that much. but you didn't know that she loved you so much it hurt and she wanted the best, and only the best for you. and the pain only increases every day instead of fading away and she grows thinner and thinner, as eating takes too much energy.

you thought your father would get over your death but he quit his job and found something to help him cope: alcohol. he hammers the drink down, one after another, spending all the money, but it doesn't help him. no amount of drinking could get rid of the sight of your stagnant body on the floor, blood seeping out of your arms. you make daily appearances in his nightmares but alcohol knocks him out and he can get a couple hours of rest until the cycle repeats.

you thought your brother was an annoying brat who was too loud and too talkative who didn't have a kind bone in his body. but after your death, not one word escaped his mouth and he sometimes stared at the spot you died. the person he looked up to, idolized, the person that made him feel safe, the person he wanted to be like is gone.

your family is broken.

did you think of your best friend? she sees your empty seat and she wants to throw up and cry at the same time. she clenches her hands into fists and tears are falling, falling from everyone's eyes, but no one can comfort her, because everyone's thinking of you and the words "killed", "suicide", and "gone". And no one can hug her and tell her everything's going to be alright because it's not going to be alright and she's falling and darkness is claiming her. her grades are dropping and she can't sleep or smile anymore. she tries to overdose, convinced she'll see you in the afterlife where you both will be reunited.

did you think of the people who bullied you? were you convinced they would be glad you were dead? their eyes are haunted and they are jittery, sure that someone will accuse them of killing you. they blame themselves. some of them visit your grave where they weep and apologize.

did you think of your teacher who gave you a hard time? he stares at your empty desk and wonders if a "good job" would've helped. he wishes he didn't tease you so much or yell at you. 

did you think about the teachers who loved you? the ones where you were their favorite student? they want to talk to you, see you raise your hand, and see you smile again. they gaze at your old work, where your name was written at the corner of every page, and realize you will never turn in another paper again.

everyone misses you. they would give anything to have you back.

congratulations. you have killed yourself, and in the process, killed everyone else.