Functionally Suicidal: The Truth About Living on Borrowed Time
I’m not good right now.
I’m not well at all.
But here I am!
Right over here.
I’m still alive.
Beating the odds
As I’m holding on by a thread.
Walking a tight rope 50 feet from the ground wishing the wind would blow me off
Onto some rich douchebag’s BMW.
Fall down go boom.
And yet within this self-destructively suicidal wish,
I hope a magical safety net would fly from out of nowhere to catch me as I fall.
And I wish someone was there.
Anyone who would give a fuck enough about me to hold me as I break the fuck down.
But yet here I am.
Me against the world.
Fighting the good fight.
Trying every day to walk away from the darkness toward the light.
Functionally suicidal I guess
As I try to live a normal life.
I still go to work every day.
I pay my bills
I file my taxes
I write these blog posts.
I try to remain as hopeful as I can.
But I’m crumbling inside.
In a sea of self-doubt and regret.
I’m sucked into the unrelenting quicksand of my blackened mind.
I continue to willingly live with the darkest recesses of my poisoned mind.
The darkness is slowing overtaking the light.
In here everything stays the same
And nothing will ever fucking change.
I can’t fucking take this shit anymore!
So the eternal question still remains:
Should I stay or should I go?
The continually running juxtaposed narrative of wishing I was dead
Yet by finding too much beauty in the world I’ve made at least one excuse to live.
The bitter pill of truth says
I am just as worthless as I was when I was at age 16.
The sweetness of the nectar of lies says
I can survive to fight another day.
This is the co-dependent duality of my fucked up so-called life.
I don’t know how I’ve made it this far.
I don’t know why I’m still alive.
But I am.
I’m still here.
I keep going.
I keep moving.
I keep living.
And I’m still fucking standing.
I’m not sure if I’ll make it to age 65.
I’m not sure if I’ll make it to this summer.
I’m not even sure if I’ll make it to tomorrow.
Living on borrowed time in this temporary shell of skin and bone and blood.
Functionally suicidal I guess.
But I can try
To stay alive
To live to see another day.
I have to try
To stay alive
So I can see another sunset
Or see anther sunrise.
I need to try
To stay alive
So I won’t die.
This piece was originally posted on The Lithium Chronicles.
If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “HOME” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.
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Unsplash Photo via Glenn Carstens-Peters