I just traveled around the world,
But where has my brain been?
Stomped into mush and spread all over the ground.
I used to have beautiful ideas,
and I used to put them down.
I’m smarter than ever
yet the dumbest I’ve ever been.
And the worst part of all is
my catastrophic emotions.
I have deathly secrets of
contemplations of driving myself
at full force into a tree,
eating poisonous mushrooms,
and hazardous self-beating.
And the awkward avoidance of
my Dad’s offer to buy me a gun,
fearing what I might get tempted to really use it for —
instilling an everlasting self-stun.
Now, before it’s too late, I must step up.
Dear Dark Moments, This is Not Okay.
It’s time to give me back the key to my apartment,
or else I’m getting my locks changed.
Step one to get you out of my mind,
exercise myself to near-death
instead of flirting with actual death,
and in doing so, create a passion for life.
Step two, venture out into the night and
stare at stars and think about things
more enormous than me,
and make myself a part of them
and thereby more lovely.
Suicidal thoughts, I reject you,
even if you might be my only frequent visitor.
It’s not me, it’s you — I want to live,
and I want to be happy,
and most importantly,
I WILL BE.