Letters In My Head

Do You Still Come Here?

There's suicidal notes engraved into the wall, placed there by the finest pen of all, each handwriting is different but every hand troubled, with scars overriding their wrist and their head held under bubbles.

Do you still come here? To the place we wrote the notes together, it made it seem okay when you were there, but I wonder if I wrote a note to you, right on the wall we used to sit beside if you could tell me what went wrong because I'm confused.

There's a scripture of hurt scribbled across these white walls, some ink is blue and some red, black too. There's so much getting in the way as I read everyone's suicide notes today and I'm not sure if holding on is even an option anymore.

Do you still come here?
To the place we were silent, I know it's crazy, how could you miss silence?
But right now silence is all I want to hear because my heads so ridden with doubts and fear, all taking their chance at beating me down. They're just playing around. This happens a lot, I'll hit my head off the wall at a poor attempt to get them to leave but I just achieve a headache. It's still something I guess.

I could write so many suicide notes into this wall, engrave my pain into an everlasting symbol of how shit can't get better because when it does, it just gets bad again. And I'm lying to everyone who comes to me and asks if it does get better because their life is worth much more then my own, for heaven is the world and hell has become my home.

I've started going back to bad habits, I'm ashamed of it.
I've picked up cigarettes and I've drank alcohol, therapy doesn't start til next week but I'm just trying to make it to tomorrow without truly being around, because in my bed I just cry over some sort of sorrow but I don't know what.
It's much easier now you don't care, I don't have to let down anyone near, but I still wonder do you still come here?

I've tried messaging, I've tried calling but I've gotten nothing, I've waited by the notes of despair writing more as the time goes along, no one can really see what's wrong but you just had a way of breaking it down, I never knew how you did it. I wish I did tho, that would have come in handy.

Funny that, we wrote so many notes yet our communication was limited but you always came back, and man I did some shitty things and maybe one day you'll stumble across this, on the internet or on the suicide wall and remember that place.
I truly wonder if you still come here,
It would be some fresh air for tired lungs if you did.
But for now I'll fill them with nicotine, and beg the lord above to take me from this suffering because I don't know what I've become.