I feel tears drip down my cheeks and hear them fall onto the pillowcase. I wonder: can you hear them too? My hair is damp, my ears, cheeks, and neck wet. I cry for the loss of normalcy my illness … Continue reading If I Tell You Everything
“I love you, but I want to die.” It’s something I have said inside my head, but never to you. Because how could I love you, if I want to die? You have heard me say I want to die, … Continue reading Staying Alive for Love
I have a bottle containing five Ativan pills, in case of emergency. There are only five because I am afraid that I might try to overdose if I had a month’s supply. I previously had thirty pills, and I became … Continue reading Sometimes You Need to Take the Ativan
The time you stayed up all night telling me stories about your childhood The time you let me cry for hours and didn’t judge me The time you forced me to go to lunch when I was too depressed to … Continue reading All the Times You Saved Me
I’m thinking it, but somehow I just can’t say it. I can reach for you; I can hold your hand. But I can’t say those words. You have an appointment. Maybe even a very important one. But you have to realize that this is more important: it’s a matter of life and death. If I can realize it, you can too. Or maybe you have to learn it. This is the first time, but it won’t be the last.
You are on your way somewhere else, going out, for that thing you have to do. You think I’m not feeling great, but I’ll be okay, like I usually am after a while. You let go of my hand, edge toward the door so you can put on your jacket.
What happens if you leave?