a letter to myself for when it feels like there’s nothing else left in the world

trigger warning: suicide mention, self-harm

influenced by shane koyczan. (a little.)

i know. you cried puddles on the kitchen floor, and threw chairs at the door, and your stomach shook from the impact afterwards. didn’t it? didn’t you? and you snapped, and you fell apart, as the sun descended over the horizon, and it felt like it was the end of the world because in that moment you hated yourself more than you hated everything else. didn’t you? and some days, you still don’t know what’s in your head and what’s actually true. but… you also picked yourself up off the ground and winced as you bandaged your bleeding limbs too, because as a kid with mental illness… it’s the kind of thing you learn how to do. and you’ll tell yourself you can’t, and then you will. and you’ll tell yourself it’s too much, and sometimes it is. but somehow, you’ll live to tell the tale that you made it through. and i guess i just wanted to say that for all the times i haven’t said it: i believe in you. i believe that you will make mistakes. i believe that you will hate yourself. and i believe that there will be days when the knife or the pill seem like all you have left. but i also know that you will be given the option to jump, and you won’t. and i know this because i know you. i know you as the girl who made a flower crown and watched the sun set, and for a moment, forgot about that anything else existed. the girl who grew herself gardens through the garbage. who cried into the sun, until the tears made the whole ocean. i know you as the person i am growing to love, and accept, even though i have grown up hating myself. even though honestly, half the time, i still do. even though my head is some kind of shattered window, and my lungs malfunction… i know you. and i just want to let you know. that even if it’s fifty years right now… someday, we’ll get a little bit closer to looking in the mirror and finally being able to tell the reflection i’m doing all right, thank you. and i don’t know how long that’s going to take get there. maybe a whole lifetime. but we will get there. i promise you.

this started out as a really sad vent poem i came up with while i was walking titled, for obvious reasons, “didn’t you?” and to be honest, i don’t know how it turned into something else. but it did, somehow. but this happened. i might turn it into a spoken word sometime soon, if i feel up to it? i found some really good royalty-free music for it, and i’m starting to get into spoken word again.

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