Suicide Notes I Started

Suicide,
A pretty lie
That hides
The ugly truth
We try to deny.

Rough Draft
Dear parents,

I’m sorry that I’ll never grow up

To be the person you wanted me to be

I’m sorry that when you think of me

All you’ll remember are the signs

You didn’t see

Dear sister,

I’m sorry that I had to leave you behind

But it was my time to go

I’m sorry it was so soon;

I didn’t get a chance

To be a good role model

Dear best friend,

I’m sorry for all the late night phone calls

Worrying you with my panic attacks

I’m sorry for being such a burden

Now

You can finally get your life back

And last, but not least,

Dear me,

I’m so sorry that I let myself think

The only way to be free of this pain

Was to stop living

How Am I Doing?
How am I doing?

A vague question with an even vaguer meaning

Actually, it is not a question with any meaning

Just a statement to reassure you that my seams

Are still intact with your perception of my being

Because that question is not about my well-being

Rather, a common saying to validate that human feeling

Of empathy

That makes you feel like a good human being

If you truly desire to witness my feelings

Look me dead in the eye

To find death inside

The tears I’ve killed

To hide a soul always weeping

How am I doing?

What you expect to hear is, “Fine,”

Because it is much easier to hide behind

False pleasantries

And to put your mind at ease

That I’m not going to jump off the nearest building

Or slit my wrists so my veins spew red

Never-ending

As I force an ending to my story

I was never taught how to express my feelings

And you were never taught how to receive

Any other answer

Than the one we are programmed into hearing

How am I doing?

I am like a crack on a windshield

Ready to shatter in a shower of glass

At the next impact

Because I cannot handle another attack

Against my psyche

I am barely holding on by a string

I am tearing completely apart at the seams

I am in so much agony

That I feel apathy

And everything

Turns into nothing with any meaning

So, how am I doing?

I’m merely existing

Identity Thief
I am but an amalgamation

Of the traumas

Those close to me burden.

I torture myself sadistically

To maintain the façade of a good person.

My only positive trait is empathy,

Drowning me in others’ suffering

To mask the lonely existence

Of my pointless being.

The Life of an Undiagnosed Empath
How can I claim to pursue the truth

When I cannot honestly say who I am?

Unable to separate myself from my experiences,

And suffering from others.

My entire identity is pain.

Most of which is not even my own,

Yet I claim it as if it were so.

Too Much
Girls like me are known for their temper;

Quick to anger.

They shine so bright

But burn out quicker.

They love so hard

But hate forever.

Now all I am

Are ashes.

Waiting, like a phoenix,

I will rise.

I fell for a girl.

We were once
Like matches,
Burning bright
Against a midnight sky.
Now all I am
Are ashes.
Waiting, like a phoenix,
I will rise.

Broken Hearts Don't Beat the Same
Broken hearts don’t beat the same

When you cut through all the strings,

Leaving me

With a broken melody,

No hope for a remedy,

Stuck here suffering off-key

While your heart is still intact;