Standing on a beach covered in smooth stones.
I pick up the one nearest me and turn it over in my hand.
It’s engraved with the word ANXIETY.
I slip it in my pocket.
I pick up a few more,
PTSD, WORTHLESS, AFRAID OF THE DARK.
I slip them in my pocket.
I can feel their weight pulling me down,
But I only look at more,
BAD GRADES, DEATH, RAZORBLADES.
I slip them in my pocket.
I feel the water kissing my toes.
Its ice cold touch raises the hairs on my arms.
Another stone finds its way to my fingertips, SUICIDE.
I slip it in my pocket.
My knees begin to buckle beneath me, under the strain of all the weight.
The water’s reaching my waist,
My shoulders,
The rim of my chin.
I hold my breath once my knees finally give out.
The next breath I take fills my lungs with water.
The stones carry me to the ocean floor.
They hold me safe and I can finally close my eyes.
