Suicide Poem by Mikaela Hall

Another day.
Another day to–
Unwillingly get out of bed
make myself look presentable
fake a smile
and hide my insanity

Walking around the hallways
packed full of people I can hardly stand,
a single thought runs through my mind–
Death.
How will it happen?
Where will it happen?
When will it happen?

These people everywhere
constantly judging, gossiping, torturing my mind.
My self-esteem - what little I had - is gone.
All these words burnt it to ash right before my eyes.
And as for my self-respect–
I’m not sure it ever existed.

When the day comes to its long awaited end
I walk home, alone of course–
crawl into my bed and sit in silence
dwelling on the sick, twisted joke known as my life–
All of its memories, needs, desires, why it even exists.
Do I have a purpose? A reason for being alive?
I’m not wanted here.
I’m not needed.

Worthless–
That’s what I am.
I’m a burden on my family.
others groan at my presence.
I’m a waste of space.
With this in mind, I return to my original thought–
Death.
More precisely–
Suicide.

It’s a lovely idea.
The thought of it gives me a sense of peace.
Everyone views suicide as
cowardly, attention seeking, and stupid
but its not.
Whats stupid is the fact that people–
Normal human beings,
feel that they have the right to berate others
to the point that they see no sense in living.
This is exactly what’s been done to me.

With a shaky hand I pick up a pen.
My mind is full of words to say.
I could write for days on end if I had the chance
but I don’t.
This is my one opportunity to leave this godforsaken place–
I fully intend to take it.

Someone is home.
They call my name but I don’t respond.
Where could I be?
Something isn’t right.
They’re looking for me.
The bathroom door opens and there I am–
laying flat on the floor
prescription bottles on the counter
pills spilled all around me.
My brother–
screaming for help
tears running down his face
he unfolds the paper that had been clutched in my hand
and reads it aloud
I’m sorry.