My high school consular is such a kind, compassionate woman.
I almost don't have the heart to tell her that there isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish I was dead at least once,
That I've contemplated more ways to kill myself than she could find in her psychology textbook,
That I could carry out most of those means very easily,
And, most importantly,
That I'm just broken and insane enough to never be able to bring myself to do it-
Zoie; she's heard the name once, but doesn't know that the little angel is one of the only reasons I haven't offed myself, why I can't off myself...
She's a gentle barrier around me, the wall between my throat and that blade, my stomach and those pills, my breath and that noose,
For she will not allow for Maw Maw Wina to loose another one,
Even if loosing me could save many hairs from graying.
I'm hopelessly suicidal, but hopeless bound to survival.
Depressed, but chained to progress.