Why Am I Here?

Do you think some people get to chose when they go? Like after a while they get sick or get old and after fighting life for so long they just say “okay it’s time” and then die? Or do you think death just happens and we don’t get any choice in the matter even if you try to kill yourself? Sometimes I wonder how I lived even though I’ve over dosed 4 times. I wonder why I’m here. There are people who deserve to live more than I do fighting to have just one more day, and four times I failed trying to kill myself. Why do I get to still be here when they die?

It’s Not You

I have to keep reminding myself that you’re not the person I knew anymore. I look at the ignored messages and I have to tell myself the person I miss isn’t who you are anymore, because you’ve changed. There’s an unrecognizable monster where the person who held my whole heart used to be. It’s not you I miss.
I miss laying in bed talking while corse fingers trace the veins of my wrist. I miss hearing “don’t lie to me” when I try to hide how upset I am. I miss playful sexist banter back and forth. I miss the intense stair that catches me sneaking glances causing my face to turn a slight pink. I miss strong arms wrapped around me as a hoarse voice tells me “everything’s okay now” and “it was just a nightmare” and “I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore”.
I miss fingers tangled in my hair. I miss being tickled. I miss falling asleep to Disney movies playing in the background. I miss laughing in spite of however I’m feeling.
But it’s not you I miss. No. I can’t miss you. You aren’t the person I knew anymore. The beautiful person I fell in love with is long gone