For Those Who’ve Dreamt Of Suicide

Wrote this a few years back about a time when I was much you and not so high on myself (long story full of break-ups, let-downs, cheats and liars )and what I'd say to someone who felt the same way.

For Those Who’ve Dreamed Of Suicide

Hello, Dreamer.

Won’t you, please, open your eyes?

How are you?

You see, I ask because I know what you’ve dreamt of; suicide.

And I know that you can hardly speak to me right now because I know.

And I know you dream of it because your heart feels weak and heavy.

I suppose it seems even heavier than the whole wide world right now.

I can see it in your face; the weight of all that stress on your being.

And I can tell by the way that you move and breathe

that the air feels thick and heavy.

It’s thicker than water isn’t it.

It’s thicker than blood aint it.

And it’s thicker than anything you’ve known.

You’d like to be rid of it all wouldn’t you;

 the stress, the weight, the breathing, and even the world.

But, before you go and do something so drastic to relieve yourself of any of those.

And before you solve the whole world’s problems,

I’d like to tell you this: The world has more pressing problems than you.

And it has had them for a long, long time.

 And for much longer than you or I have been alive.

And it’s not that you aren’t as important as anything else in the world

Because you most definitely are.

It’s just that, you won’t solve the world’s problems like this;

Ceasing to be.

How do I know?

How could I understand?

Well, It’s because, not that long ago, I fought that stress and felt that weight.

And I felt that thickness of the air that accompanies depression.

And yes it made life feel like a bad dream.

Because of it, I began to try and find the darkest corners of my mind

if not those of the earth to hide.

You know, so that if I wanted to it’d be easy to leave the light.

You see, I thought the world was attacking me

 and destroying me just for spite, dreamer.

I thought that if I took myself to the very edge of existence

 that I could hide from everything else.

I thought I could stay away from everything that hurt me

 and the isolation and distance would shield me from pain.

I thought it’d help me to feel nothing.

I’d been called it enough times anyway.

So, why couldn’t I really really feel it?

So, I was always trying to find that dark edge.

And like you I was numb from the ridicule, dreamer.

I was fed up with the lingering pain.

I started to believe what people were saying about me

 and I loved myself less and less.

Yes, I did.

 You see, I never really fit in anywhere.

So, I felt uncomfortable everywhere.

 I felt I was never going to be loved if that love called for me to be similar.

You see, I was unattractive where being the same was supposed to be beautiful.

I was clumsy where there was a style and grace to “fitting in”.

And, like you dreamer, I wanted out

 of whatever this awkwardness,

this painful existence,

 this hurt masquerading as" being" was.

“This So Called Life” didn’t feel like living.

So, I started thinking about the other thing; death.

I became infatuated with hanging out at the very edge of it.

So it wouldn’t be such a long journey to get there.

Last days began to sound so good to me.

Because, honestly, I felt my life wasn’t.

I started to lose arguments with myself

 about what positives tomorrow might bring.

Especially, after people who said they loved me

 couldn’t pretend to anymore.

So, I started questioning my importance.

And when the pain of the persecution for being myself

became more prevalent than my arguments against it,

I started wondering what my last day on earth would be like.

Yeah, I started to see it.

And it was so vivid.

It was so calm.

It was so peaceful.

 Yeah, it was peaceful.

But, it poisoned me to living.

 Because in my real life

I couldn’t find a safe place to hide from the “life is dreary” me anymore.

 Nor ,could I conjure up words magical enough

 to protect me from my depressed self.

I damaged myself with all that self-hate and loathing ,dreamer.

 And it consumed me for a while and spit me out broken.

I consumed it too and kept it inside whole.

It stuck to my insides

 and made love unable to stick in there too.

So, like you, I felt damaged.

And the damage began to rule the mind.

And I hated the mind that I’d damaged even more.

To me, the being that I saw through others eyes

 belonged in any other world but this one.

Without me, this world would be perfect.

Or would it?

You see, nothings perfect.

If it is, it’s certainly not in or of this world.

No ,not this world with all its problems.

Problems, mind you, that where there before you and I were born.

But, like you, I didn’t believe it for a while.

 And like you I imagined leaving.

So, I began to kill myself off in every other dream.

And just before dying each time I’d ask myself: who’d even miss me?

 I honestly believed it was no one who couldn’t do without me anyway.

So, my doubts even overpowered the love of family and friends.

And I began to duck them and their questions asking me if I was alright.

And I told them yes every time.

Just like you probably have.

You see, it was all about my non-existence.

 I had begun to crawl every day to the outermost corners of this “heavy old world”

just so it’d be easy to leave if I thought I had to.

I guess I thought the world was destroying me.

So, if I was close to the edge, 

I could just live there in a dark hole and wait to cease my existence.

Yeah, I could hide there

from this place that I just knew had labeled me not good enough for it.

 Believe me,

 life was different then, dreamer;

 day after day hoping it’d all end.

 It matched my mind state at the time.

 You see, I was lilting back and forth between rational and illogical thoughts

 of what being is and not being at all.

More often than not, I was starting to see I had an attraction to the second one.

You see, I never fit in here anyway.

 At least, back then, I never thought I did.

So, like you I wanted out.

I wanted out of a world that didn’t seem to want me in it

 or love me as I was in it.

That is, until, someone moved the world for me

and told me that they loved that I was different.

Can you believe that?

 Someone moved the world for me

and actually loved that I was different.

But, they told me I also had to wake up too.

Just like I’m telling you to do now.

So I could see that there was a place in this world for me.

They said, there is always room in it for someone new and different

Because different brings about change.

And sometimes change is good.

I needed to change dreamer.

So, I woke up , just like I want you to do right now.

Yeah, wake up dreamer.

Wake up from those dark, dark dreams.

Take it from me, you get tired of living in the nightmares.

You get tired of waking up feeling half dead.

And you finally realize, like I did,

that you can only dream of something better
When you don’t care what people say.

You see your dreams of suicide wont stop

 until you know what it is to live for yourself

 and love yourself as you are.

For those who dream of suicide

Wake up!

Wake up!

Wake up!

and Live