Poem Collection: My Suicide and Depression

TW/CW: Suicide

I tried to commit suicide on April 4th. I can still remember the pill bottles I lined up on my coffee table. The feeling of blood running down my wrists and thighs. The relief I felt when my friends rushed in the door and
grabbed my shoulders.

I didn't want to die.

While I was in rehabilitation, I found that most of us do not. After my attempt, I went to inpatient, residential, and then partial hospitalization. Whether the person was admitted to our program for a drug overdose, an
eating disorder, or an attempt, we wanted to want to stay alive. But our teachers grew frustrated with the assignments we missed; our friends walked away our problems became endless; we failed everyone over and over again. Until one day, we found ourselves alone and desperate for one breath away from our consuming pain.

Despite my hospitalization, I was able to finish my last semester at UNC and even return in the fall for a master's in Clinical Rehabilitation and Mental Health Counseling. Stories like mine make people comfortable. A success story means that they don't have to sympathize with me anymore. A happy ending shows that all pain has a purpose. However, the reality is that the reasons I tried to leave this world are still valid and real. To this day, I could easily have another attempt—the hurt I touched wore me down and I will never be the same.
Earlier this month, I had a panic attack during a house meeting. A line of questioning triggered me. I lost control. I started hyperventilating. I sobbed into my friend Veda's arms while all my housemates stared at me
having a breakdown. When I saw my roommates the next day, I was met with awkward silence and sympathetic looks—no one knew what to say so they said nothing.

I don't think my housemates or any of the community I lost while in recovery are bad people. But the day after the house meeting incident, I laid in bed crying, knowing, that even if someone in the house heard me, no one
would come. That quiet reminded me why I did what I did that April: because every time a display of pain was met with silence, I became convinced that everyone was uncomfortable with my sorrow and problems;
and I wanted to stop being a constant bother.

In class, I learned that almost everyone that commits suicide tells a loved one. I have found that it doesn't matter if you explicitly tell someone you will commit suicide if they are not ready to listen to you. It doesn't
matter if you're falling apart, people will demand that you center their guilt and try to understand what they meant by the words they will never say. My poetry is about the frustration, loneliness, and hopelessness we feel when we ask for love and receive silence. I wanted to capture the devastation of losing people while pouring all your energy into keeping yourself alive. My words are not meant to blame people for the loss of a loved one, but instead, communicate how unresponsiveness perpetuates the messages of an entire community. A community that is willfully ignorant of mental health because, past the performative support, empathy does not serve them.

For the people who see themselves in my words, I don't have any answers about how to escape the hopelessness, but I have been and am trapped. I might not know everyone who reads these poems, but I love all of you. If you and I can love and cry with sorrow, I know other people can too. I hope you find those people, and if not, I hope my message convinces you to keep looking.

The Dandelion
I push against the rough cement.
I am a dandelion growing on your sidewalk.
And you'll stare in awe at my bright yellow crown,
And praise how my life cracked the hard stone,
But you don't know how my roots cry in their rocky prison,
Or how my body starves for rich, black soil.

You walk by me every day,
But you don't see how my leaves thirst for water,
Or how my stem wilts under the unrelenting sun,
And I grow despite all this pain,
Struggling and hurting each day.

Until I become nothing,
A flower rotten,
Some beautiful thing picked and forgotten.

The Limits of Compassion
You gave me an umbrella when I cried like heavy rain,
And told me I was brave to pour out my pain.
But when the storm clouds lasted days, months, and years,
You ran like water, screaming "just hold back the tears."

Clinically Insane
The sight of grief makes men faint
People do not tend to wounded minds--not even the gentlest saints.
So, the wailing woman's mouth was sewn shut
And satin gloves soaked salt into her raw cuts.

Each night I chanted "maidens of misery choose to be lost"
and I heeded their bitter warning cloaked in sugary frost
Prioritized the stranger's comfort over my drowning heart
Painted my sullen face for I am nothing, but manmade art

And they drank my deceit like expensive champagne
Savoring how I ignored my all-consuming pain
But it's natural for rains to become hurricanes
And hurt like this cannot be contained.
One day my flooded heart took its last breath
And they could not recognize me in the aftermath.

The gentlemen shook their heads and said, "oh, what a shame"
"It's no one's fault she went insane."

Hard worker
I work hard every day.
Pushing myself until I go mental,
Just so that when I die you can say,
"Oh, how sad, she had so much potential."

Sacrifice
I spent days writing you a love letter.
Wrote until paper cuts covered my hands.
My wounds bleed onto the pages,
So I named the red stains sacrifice
And painted the crimson marks into hearts.

The blood continued to drip onto the white envelope.
--I had no time for bandages
You were more important than flesh wounds.

And after days, months, maybe years,
The letter was finally good enough for you to read.
I looked at the carefully painted words and smiled,
But what I didn't know was
I would never get a reply

The Rain Will Come
Cold, wet clothes cling to my skin.
Lying on a bed of tear-stained napkins.
Grief pours from my eyes like heavy rain.
I am drenched in this sorrow once again.

And there were days where I was dry,
But forever is the sweetest lie.
Because people hold up umbrellas for a night,
But when the storm doesn't pass, they take flight.

And I have chosen to not be resentful.
Because any love given is plentiful.
So, let me save them from my dark forecast.
Allow them to become a part of my past.

Before my sunshine runs its course.
Before they abandon me at my worst.

Covered in Depression
On a rainy day, they decreed that my forecast must change,
Warning that my storm of sorrow will leave me estranged.
Suddenly harsh words replaced their soft touch.
They held on to their judgment like a steadfast grudge.

And though my empty pockets urged for compassion,
I spent all their empathy when my grief was in season.
Like a fool, I had believed in unending patience.
Until my teary eyes watched them lose their tolerance.

I decided to accept loneliness in silence.
Let their weary hearts go without resistance.
Because now I know that love changes like the weather.
Only my poetry will fulfill the promise of forever.

And though the jury decreed it was time,
To abandon my anguish and clean the grime.
Their resignation does not wash away the pain.
Instead, their memory hurts me again and again.

Depression and anxiety are lifelong.
The court's verdict only left me alone.

How do you kill hope?
You don't water her.
You leave her thirsty for love and affection.
Until she withers away, curling into herself.
Though she might have stood so firm,
With roots so deep,
She will die like she never existed.

Poetry in Water
I used to think that adversity read like a library novel,
Each tragedy is a lesson to unravel.

But if suffering is literature, it is poetry exposed to water.
Prose decomposing in a mournful river.

Each time we touch the pain, we lose ourselves further.
Instead of a resolution, the despair leaves our will weathered.
Delicate pages of beautiful thoughts fall apart.
Moss grows over the beloved art.

Until one day, the lake of tears leaves the script unreadable,
A masterpiece, watered-down and unrecognizable.

Your Effortless Murder
I rebuilt my home from ashes a thousand times until I realized--
I was not a phoenix, but a madwoman.
A lost daughter enjoying the warmth of the fire that consumed me
Because I thought flesh wounds were worth the inferno of love.
Because I thought the way you set my body ablaze was beautiful.

But when the enchantment of your light died out
I saw how you burned me down
You're a careless glow with cruel callousness
You're a negligent mind with devouring embers

Though your heat never meant to hurt me, you seared off my skin.
I know I will take this pain and grow an armor of scar tissue.
But right now, I am too sensitive for even the gentlest touch
But right now, I am too afraid of the flares of anyone's love

So I decide to stop rekindling this pain again and again and again.
So I set a match to our friendship, watching it disintegrate like papers in
flames.

Let the rainfall and kill your forest fires
Let them die like you would've killed me,
Effortlessly.

Death or the Inevitable End?
I met my soulmate in the spring.
Like poppy flower buds,
Love bloomed between us,
--beautiful and addicting.

We admired each other until the poison set me free.
Thank god I died before you could leave me.

Nothing?
If my tree falls with no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?
When my will becomes broken branches,
And my tears are leaves scattered on the dirt ground,
And my hope is bark covered in ants and mushrooms,
Creatures eating my remains,
Until I am nothing,
Just forgotten life on a deathbed of moss.

The Shining Star is Dead
When you hurt me, I ran to the stars.
You let me go, it's easier to look at misery from afar.
And everyone knows that distance tells lies.
But you decided I will be fine with your earth-bound eyes.

Like the moon, my faith in you waned.
It will take centuries for you to see my pain.
I orbited this grief alone again and again.
Persuading myself to keep shining without reason.
Until one night, I decided to say goodbye.
A lonesome star falling from the sky.

Years from now,
When you see me dim, you will be horrified
Never knowing, I have already died.

Losing to Depression
My eyes strain to see through the dark
I run through the trees, looking for signs on the bark
I am stuck in the wilderness of depression
Escaping the woods is my only obsession

As I walk aimlessly, I become less and less limber
My legs grow rigid as if they are made from timber
I am alone, but the owls screech that love is the compass
So hopelessness grows over my eyes like a fungus.
Suddenly I cannot see light anymore
And my feet root in the forest floor
I scream and I scream till my voice runs shrill
I grow branches and leaves, losing my free will

My eyes strain to see through the dark
I am reduced to lumber and bark
And though escaping the woods was my only obsession,
I became consumed by the forest of my depression.

Good Girl
My mirror tells me I look beautiful.
I am a woman dressed up as a girl.
I am always happy.
The muscles on my face burn because of my ever-present smile.
And if my expression ever falters,
The walls whisper I have lost my mind.
I probably have.

My eyes are tired but constantly wide with child-like awe.
The sun shines from the windows all-day
And darkness never enters the hallways.
Instead of sleeping, I walk in the golden light.
The marble floors promise that I don't need to know where I am going.
I am beautiful and never-changing.
I am a woman dressed up as a girl.

Seasons change
I understand why seasons change
I understand why we cannot stay the same
I understand that flowers must die
I understand that death brings life

I understand why we must let each other go
I understand that sunflowers shrivel in the snow
I understand that I don't give what you need anymore
I understand that happy-ever-after is just folklore

People and seasons change
Love blossoms, friends become estranged

I understand
I understand
I really, truly understand

But when I felt your autumn chill
When your cold wind hit my windowsill
The familiar frost filled my veins
And my tears became pouring rain
Every fall, I have felt this pain
But the icy truth shocks me once again

I understand
I understand
God, I really, truly understand
Seasons change
People cannot stay the same

But never I imagined you would leave me like a dreamer.
Because if it were up to me, it would always be summer.

Spring
Wake me up when the lilacs die of thirst
When the life of our love decays to earth
And wilted petals of hope become dirt

Wake me up when death becomes growth
When my tears nourish mushrooms
And dandelions bud on our grave

Wake me up when all of you is gone
When the circle of life yields new flowers
And I can grow,
soaked in sunlight,
alone.

Locked Out
When you shut the door and took my keys
I was reduced to tears and pleads
But from the outside, I can see
That you never really cared for me
Because you were there for the laughs but not the pain
Your roof never shielded me from the pouring rain
And outside the thunderstorms still rage in the skies
But there's more light to see through your lies
Because the truth is you never tried to keep me dry
And if I caught my death, you'd let me die
So, I walk through neighborhoods, drenched and alone
If you didn't lock me out, I would not search for a warmer home.

Christmas Tree
You covered me in the prettiest lights
Enjoying roasted chestnuts under my feet
Sang yule-time carols to me every night
And opened my gifts with child-like glee

And perhaps it was wishful thinking
But I thought I was an evergreen
And now the realization is sinking
I am just a fleeting scene

Because after the fruitcakes and figgy pudding
I am just branches, brown and drooping
And once I have fulfilled my purpose to you
I am worthless in your point of view
Your holiday spirit never meant you would keep me
After December you throw out the Christmas Tree

Suicide
I looked for the bottom of the lake while swimming in the oceans.
Searching for a floor to stand on to catch my tired breath.

So I dove deeper and deeper.
The pressure made my heart explode
Until I was no longer a person,
Just limp limbs and slow heartbeats.

As my body melted into the ocean,
I remembered dry soil beneath my feet:
The shore that lined the sea I drowned in.

I did not have to fill my lungs with water to rest on solid ground,
I needed to swim in a different direction.

Shelter
We used to be friends.
A chapter ago, we were in a playground
In golden light, weaving dandelion crowns
But everyone left for shelter when my sky turned grey
And I heard y'all gossiping as you ran away
I wished I could join and hide from my forecast.
But this sadness and pain in me were too vast.

Hopelessly, I watered our flowers with my tears,
But the limp blossoms confirmed my fears.
Rumors fell from your mouths like rain.
And my rose-colored glasses ignited in flames.

It took months to accept I can't be your sunny weather
So, when your cold shoulders gave me shivers, I put on a sweater
Go ahead and sing songs about me like the morning birds
I am nourishing my soil for spring, deaf to your words

I Don't Chase Mail
I wasted my youth in front of a mailbox
My body slumped over the empty side-walk
The world moved like it was in slow motion
I was afraid to miss any signs of your devotion

But as the days flew by
My eyes grew tired and my throat became dry
And I looked around, left and right
The neighbors got letters without waiting morning and night
So, I pushed myself up with wobbly knees
This anxious expectation was ruining me

I devoured water and dissolved into sleep
I laughed at novels and let myself weep
And just because I am not waiting for you anymore
This does not mean that I have locked my door
I hope one day, the mailman will bring your letters
But if it never comes, I won't search these streets and gutters
Even if your prose got lost in the rain
If you really wanted to reach me, you would write again.

Choosing Silence
I love the sound of melodies.
And I fear what silence could bring.

So I let you sing for years and years
Permit the loud noise to echo in my ears
But now I am scared to perform the blues
Because I know you'll sing off-tune
You'll change the rhymes I wrote
And overwhelm each soulful note

So, if I want to be center stage
And if I want to choose the way
I take each breath and harmonize
I cannot keep trying to compromise

I know you'll never give me peace
But I have not ever done a solo-piece
I don't want to be defined by the music I am afraid to write
So, I light the match and let our duet ignite

I allow the silence to ring in this empty room
And let the stillness within me bloom
In the quiet, I can finally hear my own song
I breathe in the steady calm,
And play the way I dreamed of all along.

Home
My heart is not a hostel, it's a home.
Each brick was a lesson taught by pain.
And though I have so many beautiful rooms,
Beds covered in blankets woven with love and aching to warm someone
Life has shown me that I cannot let strangers in.

Because my heart is not a hostel, it's a home
The white marble floors were cleaned spotless with tears,
And travelers cannot enter with their dirty feet.

The paintings on the walls tell stories of my dreams,
And not all wanderers can appreciate art properly

The furniture,
The lights,
The food in the pantries.

The ceilings,
The curtains,
The carpets under my feet.

They are precious.
They are worthy.
They are a part of me.

My heart is not a hostel, it's a home
Each brick was a lesson taught by pain.
I am cautious about who gets the keys
Because l know how careless people break delicate things with ease