The Awkward,The Weird, And The Self Loathing

Have you ever looked at a moving car and wondered what you'd look like splayed out on the front bumper.
Have you ever looked at an open window an wondered if you jumped out, would you fly.
I look in the mirror,
I hate what I see.
I've written my suicide,
Not because I want to kill myself,
I just know what I would do if I did.
I would take a bunch of pills like eating M&Ms,
I would go somewhere quiet like a library,
I don't want my mom to find me,
I'd write her a letter that wove in eloquent detail why I did it and how sorry I was,
How I'm always sorry.
I would never kill myself but by the way my tongue twists into words of hate for myself that makes it seem like I would.
The light that beams through the clouds,
The sound of the rain hitting cool pavement,
The way roses smell,
These things don't hurt,
These things keep reminding me,
That life,
That living is better than dying,
Because if you stop and take a moment,
Look around at the things that things that really matter,
You can move on.
I can move on,
His fingers won't haunt my skin anymore.
My body will be mine.
I won't cry when I remember his hands running up my waist.
I will be me again.