Work Text:
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about killing myself – you say, as if it hasn’t been the only thing on your mind for two years now.
Your opposite nods and smiles. “Same”. Same, same, same. How is it “same” when they still know how to open their mouth and speak and how is it "same", when it’s so casual to them, and when has this become normal? – you wonder.
But they say "same", and you say "yeah", and you go on with your day.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about killing myself – you say.
You never start your sentence differently, because this way it puts the time over yourself, and while people are busy thinking about the “lately”, they don’t hear your sentence.
You don’t call it a cry or a plea because it’s not, or maybe calling it that would make it real. You don’t make a decision because you’ve become a master at that. And when you think about what’s bothering you so much about life, you avert your gaze, because what do you have to complain about after having seen every sunset and every sunrise of the last year.
You know all funky catchphrases and slogans, you know the “suicide awareness” hashtag and the “hundred reasons to stay alive” posts.
You’ve finished your shampoo and conditioner at the same time, and you’ve sat on rooftops. You know there’s no music in death, but neither is there in sleep. You’ve climbed up the treehouse of your childhood and snow angels you made in shorts and a T-Shirt.
You let people call you crazy and have this crazy story to tell and as long as everyone thinks you were drunk when you did it and not just gone, things are fine.
You’ve had good and better days and you’ve felt infinite.
So, what else is there for you to do?
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about killing myself – you say,
And your parents put dinner on the table. They don’t look up or furrow a brow, your siblings have moved out and your plate is getting cold.
Lately, you’ve been sitting in front of your mirror a lot. You forgot what you look like and refuse to see the truth or maybe that’s really all there is. Maybe, the top of the mountain was really just that and maybe, the stars are just dying planets instead of old souls, and even if you don’t join them, you’ll finally have found your place.
You are a star –
Perpetually burning out, a soul in the wrong entity.
Lately, you’ve been thinking a lot about what comes next, the knife or the bed, and lately, you’ve been thinking a lot about how soft your blanket and how worn out your favorite sweatshirt is, about how the sun is always too bright and the noises are always too loud and the knife is always too sharp.
Lately, you’ve been thinking a lot about killing yourself and now you’re going to sleep, little light.
And your brothers and sisters will wake you, when it’s time to go.