Painful Truths

The End

Dear Dr.Malcolm,
Last night I tried to kill myself. Last night I took twenty five tylenols and slit my wrists. That's what I thought I did at least. I think I might have been hallucinating. I remember you told me that was a symptom of anxiety, and sometimes depression. You know, when I was in eight grade I fell head over heels for this one guy. He didn't even know I exsisted, but I swear I saw him smile at me sometimes. Was that a hallucination too? Its been nine years since then, and I fell in love with someone again. I fell so hard that I shattered all the bones in my body, and for two years I couldn't move, no matter how many people told me he wasn't any good. You told me to write my feelings out, especially when I told you about him. Well I did. At first it was to painful to put myself in my words, so I said he, and I said she. Then I realized there was no point, and I slipped into the lull of talking from first person, and it felt really good because finally people could see that I was hurting, and that I hated myself. But then I could see it too. So I decided to stop writing. One last poem, and that's the end. I scribbled this down last morning when I woke up, when I expected myself to be dead.

I checked my wrists last night
And saw melting frost.
I swallow twenty five painkillers and then I checked how I felt.
I looked fine.
I smiled wide, and then touched my slit wrists and wondered when the end would come.
I promise myself nothing like this will ever happen again but my words mean nothing.
I know I will wake up one day in the middle of the night and ask myself why I'm still alive.
I'll grab a fork and find a socket,
I'll open the window and believe in Peter Pan,
I'll look out the window onto the empty road and then reason with myself
"No one has driven by in five minutes, someone's bound to come soon"
and I'll lay down on cold pavement and wait.
But the fork will fall from trembling fingers,
And my hands will scratch and hold onto the gutter,
And no one will drive by until I get up.
My fear has kept me alive, but its also been killing me.

So, Dr.Malcolm, how do you like it? Good, right? Anyway, I'll see you next week. I found another boy to love. He has firework eyes and moon-light teeth.
Sincerely,
Me