Dear Suicide

Dear Suicide,

We’ve gotten to know each other well over the past 250 days. You arrived- so suddenly, unyielding and unwantedly into my home and I wish I had never come to know you, wish I had never learned your name or lost people that I’ve love to you.

You are not brave.

Or courageous.

You are a fucking coward.

A coward exploiting people at their weakest moment, offering false peace but leaving destruction in its wake. You don’t have the guts to pull the trigger, make the jump or tie the noose yourself so you infiltrate the heart and mind and make our hands do the dirty work for you.

You’re twisted and greedy taking lives that are not yours to take.

You have stolen the piece of my heart that was once soft and full of joy and turned it as black and bitter as the coffee I drink each morning to sustain me after another sleepless night.

I am tired.

So tired.

So helpless.

Because don’t know how to stop you.

Time marches on and your incessant greed continues to spread grief and ruin.

You take.









You take-

and you take and you take.

Until I have nothing left to give.

Until I am but the empty shell of the woman I used to be.

Until I wake each day, disappointed to see that the sun has rose yet again.

Until you take me too.

Well, suicide, I’m sorry to dissappoint you but you won’t be taking me. I’m too stubborn to give in.

I’m going to live just to spite you, you son of a bitch.



What do we say to the God of death?

Not today.

-Syrio Forel

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