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Why do I travel so high only to plummet to the ground again?
A metaphor of my life;
Exerting all of my energy into defying gravity, the one thing that grounds me.
My one weakness.
No matter how hard I try to rise, I’ll always end up falling.
A black hole, slime slicked and drooling at the edges,
guarded by two silver lips,
a gash that waits to devour me.
It opens at the seams, slanted and sinister like a crooked smile on a haunted doll.
Then I blink and step into the elevator.
The lights flicker like sirens on a cop car
Or an ambulance.
Did I kill someone? Did someone kill me?
They turn to strobe lights in a crowded club,
Yet another thing that makes me anxious.
Why does every little moment consume me?
An elevator to the rooftop? Death.
These flickering lights in this closed box? Death.
At peace in my bed, drifting off to sleep with the sound of crickets welcoming me,
chirping me goodbye? Death?
No. I wish.
I fell asleep and forgot to die.
As I step into this elevator, I close my eyes,
I count sheep only to picture them burn.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5? No. 7? No.
What if I forgot how to count?
What if I can’t remember what sheep look like?
What would people think if they read my mind right now? My mind is so full of thoughts that it’s empty. Thinking about everything yet nothing all at the same time. I can’t remember the last time I had a clear head or the last time I even slept or what day it is or when this all started or why it all started or who knows it started or how to make it stop.
Make it stop.
The elevator dings.
I stand on top of this old concrete roof. The cracks in its pavement tease me.
Oh, how I’d do anything to be small enough to fall into one.
I already feel it.
Count the buildings you can see, count the clouds, count the birds,
That’s what they use to tell me. Count the things you see,
Like counting the time makes it stop.
The ledge looks dangerous
The sheer drop that accompanies it looks promising.
‘Life is full of highs and lows’, they say,
So far, I’ve only felt the lows.
I want to feel what it’s like to be high.
But what goes up, must come down,
and I’m not taking the elevator again.
My eyes are closed, my mind is free. I feel the gentle breeze in my hair,
It floats calmly like the thoughts that travel through my mind.
I’ve never felt like this before.
The wind always mimicked the racing of my mind.
Now, it soothes me like a chime.
Maybe it’s because I’m not scared that the wind will blow me off the edge.
Maybe it’s because I want to be swept away.
Mum! Is that you?
Those gaping silver lips turn to shields that protect her.
All evil in them turned to good, she opened my eyes to staying alive.
She runs towards me and the light in the elevator casts her shadow on the pavement,
A darkness she could never escape if I were to jump.
My eyes are wide, my stomach tight, my mind is full again, but I don’t mind.
I turn around to look down on the city in which I was ready to dive.
I forgot that I was scared of heights.
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Wow. I don't know what to say. I'm not romanticizing suicidal thoughts, because I have them, too, but this was well put. Seek help. If you reach your hand out, someone is bound to grab on at some point, right?
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