how do you tell someone you're not here
you've opened all the doors
walked all the paths
and suddenly you cannot
take
another
step.
you make it six days,
maybe seven
but the tension in your neck is strung tight
and you feel lightheaded
because you know
you haven't eaten
and even though it's only 11 am you
cannot.
it creeps back in
slowly
just when you thought it was gone
roaring awake.
you are alone
you tell yourself you're not
you know how this routine goes
you know it's all in your head
you know it's your illness
it's not you. it's not true. it's not real.
but maybe it is.
you send a snap. one. two.
just pictures. just to close friends.
just to say hi.
i'm here. i'm alive.
they open it.
one minute
two
three
ten
fifteen
fourty-seven
no response.
they don't have time.
it's not that they don't care about you.
they just don't have time.
it's been a long day.
but it has for you too.
another snap.
maybe they didn't mean to ignore you
maybe it was an accident
no response.
again.
everyone always says
people talk if they want to.
maybe they don't want to talk to me.
how do you tell someone you're not here
when you so desperately, so wholly, so completely want to be.
but you just cannot take.one.more.step.one.more.breath.
and you know you won't do it.
you haven't for years
and you won't stoop there again
you don't even own a razor anymore
but you want to.
you tell yourself no
you know how you are
you can control the urge
but sometimes you just want someone to listen
without you having to say it
because as soon as the words are out
everyone cares
"i want to harm myself"
my phone rings
hey are you okay?
it's going to be okay
i'm here for you. i'm here with you.
but you weren't five minutes ago
and you ignored my messages
and nobody really fucking cares about anyone
but
themselves.
including me.
so why do i care about this?
how do you tell someone you're not here
when they aren't
here
with you
either.
