To Be (triggering material)
Posted: Wed Jun 05, 2013 3:04 pm
To fumble through "life" utterly hollow,
To ever in pain and agony wallow,
To view the world in shades of black,
To only see the things I lack.
To gain accolades of meaning devoid,
To fake a smile while feeling the void,
To wear a mask for others to like,
To fear the torment that always does strike.
To know that inside me there is nothing left,
To learn I'd been born already bereft,
To find my woes stem from within, not without,
To hope every day just to somehow hold out.
To be the person that they all expect,
To lie to my friends and my secret protect,
To lie to myself, saying they'd understand,
To try and see friendships crumble to sand.
To be crowded by friends and still be alone,
To have their support yet remain on my own,
To gain gratitude and be everyone's hero,
To gauge my own worth to be much less than zero.
To get the first call when they need a hand,
To not be on the list when they seek a friend,
To be commonly seen as of the elite,
To scarcely be thought of when they save a seat.
To try to fit in but still feel cast out,
To sit by myself, to cry, frown and pout,
To gaze and to wonder as to why I'm still here,
To take my own life with my first smile sincere.
---------------------------------------------------------
I've recently discovered that people can't handle being told about suicidal thoughts.
Even if they say they can, even if they've had them themselves - they just can't.
My wish to end my own life has not waned in a decade, and probably never will, but there's not a soul with whom I can talk about it.
My hope is that people here will be able to have such a conversation without starting to panic.
The poem above is one I wrote a couple of weeks ago.
My reasons for writing it have not changed since.
I hope for death, yearn for it - but so I have been hoping and yearning for a very, very long time.
I don't think I'll ever really do anything about it, but the people in my life can't see that.
To ever in pain and agony wallow,
To view the world in shades of black,
To only see the things I lack.
To gain accolades of meaning devoid,
To fake a smile while feeling the void,
To wear a mask for others to like,
To fear the torment that always does strike.
To know that inside me there is nothing left,
To learn I'd been born already bereft,
To find my woes stem from within, not without,
To hope every day just to somehow hold out.
To be the person that they all expect,
To lie to my friends and my secret protect,
To lie to myself, saying they'd understand,
To try and see friendships crumble to sand.
To be crowded by friends and still be alone,
To have their support yet remain on my own,
To gain gratitude and be everyone's hero,
To gauge my own worth to be much less than zero.
To get the first call when they need a hand,
To not be on the list when they seek a friend,
To be commonly seen as of the elite,
To scarcely be thought of when they save a seat.
To try to fit in but still feel cast out,
To sit by myself, to cry, frown and pout,
To gaze and to wonder as to why I'm still here,
To take my own life with my first smile sincere.
---------------------------------------------------------
I've recently discovered that people can't handle being told about suicidal thoughts.
Even if they say they can, even if they've had them themselves - they just can't.
My wish to end my own life has not waned in a decade, and probably never will, but there's not a soul with whom I can talk about it.
My hope is that people here will be able to have such a conversation without starting to panic.
The poem above is one I wrote a couple of weeks ago.
My reasons for writing it have not changed since.
I hope for death, yearn for it - but so I have been hoping and yearning for a very, very long time.
I don't think I'll ever really do anything about it, but the people in my life can't see that.