Would Be Suicide Note

A Poem by Teuta

A poem about coming to terms with depression and searching for a way to get out.

I don’t really want to kill myself.

I don’t want my friends and family to be sad.

To say things like

“If only we knew,”

“If only he had told us,”
“We could have been better.”
But it’s not their fault,
I don’t think.
I think it's my own.
It must be.
I try my best, I do what I’m told.
But life has no purpose at the moment other than

frantically searching for something to prove to me that I’m alive.

I don’t really want to kill myself.

I feel dead already.

I cling to my past life like a burning down house,

I look to my future and can’t see a way out.

So I take it day by day,

but that only makes it worse.

Each day is filled with more disappointments,

in myself and in the world.

I don’t really want to kill myself.

I don’t think I will.

But if I do,

I guess this would be my suicide note.

The kid who never learned how to live.

I feel like an alien,

separated from humanity.

And not in a romanticized way,

I don’t stand out.

I’m just an awkward little boy

trying to make it as an adult.

I can’t leave my house,

I can’t do my work.

I just sit at my computer and attempt to make myself forget.

I don't really want to kill myself.

I don’t do drugs and I don’t drink,

I get my escape through other’s stories.

Books, TV, video games.

But once I’m done I’m just left with me.

My own story, of misery and self destruction.

If I was a book I’d be too boring for most people.

If I was a movie it would go on too long,

but have a decent soundtrack.

If I was a video game there wouldn’t be enough action,

and would be too sad for the consumer audience.

I don’t really want to kill myself

I want a reason to live.

Because right now I’m just living to live.

I used to think that life was a means to its own end.

But I have since changed my mind.
That is the philosophy of animals,

Which I believe we aren’t.

Humanity needs things to affirm their life.

I have no reason to wake up tomorrow.
Nothing to look forward to.

If I died now I would have no regrets,

But also no grievances.

I don’t really want to kill myself.

Not in the literal sense.
But given a chance I’d give it all away.

Burn it to the ground and start again,

Like a phoenix rising on desert wind.

My friends are what’s stopping me.

But I don’t blame them.
It’s my own fault,

I love them too much.

I want them to be around,

Just not anything else.

I don’t really want to kill myself.
I keep telling myself that.
In hopes that one day I’ll actually believe it.
In hopes that one day I’ll find something to make it all worth it.

I have to believe things will get better.

People say it all the time,

So it must be true.

“Keep your head high,”
“Keep going.”
I’m trying, guys.
I really am.

I don’t really want to kill myself.

I just want someone to tell me it's okay.
That I’m doing alright,
And my best is okay.

But I lay in bed all f*****g day

So I don’t know if I would accept it,

Even if that’s what they were to say.

Life is pain,

And work feels like a physical attack.

Thats edgy as hell

But it’s exactly how I feel.