Bam! Bam.

And when your fourth love leaves you, you will want to kill yourself. But you won’t, because you no longer think of suicide As a house you will build one day. Your fourth love, Who is your first real love, Who brought you peace when your whole body was a gun. When she leaves you, Ask your roommate to hide the knives Because you will carve her name into all the food in the fridge. Stop showering. Warmth will remind you of her. Masturbate in public, Hope someone catches you, Just so you can feel vulnerable in front of anyone else. Try to burn her clothes, try to fall in love with strangers, Try to fall asleep without her, open the windows, She would’ve wanted them closed, Turn off the radio, she can’t sleep without noise; You can’t sleep without noise But noise will sound like her, Whispering you into the world of lights and breakfast— Make the rain sound like nothing, Make the rain sound like nothing like her voice, Don’t be alone. When you are alone, you won’t do anything you do with her, So you won’t do anything. Marvel at how she, the patient gardener, The bringer of sleep, She who draws the bath and lights the candles, She who made you someone who could make himself into someone, She made you want to live more than anything else And now, she makes you want to leave the world, Because you have seen it. In her, you have seen the color and shape of your Perfect Life. And now the children, the house, The arguments about tablecloths Are all faded, like things left In sunlight. Like any dream Left too long in the light. For months— maybe years— Every time you see her you will want to kiss her. When you do, you will expect pain to come Like the old dog you could never quite put down, But there will be None. You will remind yourself, She will remind you, you Will remind each other that This is for the best. That you are physically incapable Of loving one another. And in those moments, you will be Lying. Your heart screaming “I can. I can! I can! I can!” But you will stay Silent, because of her. Because she asked for this. Because she filled something in you that’s still full, Even though she’s gone.

Think of the year you wasted confirming that yes, you are in fact, sad. Think of the year after that it took to get help, Think of the time you could’ve spent teaching or running or doing anything but telling yourself that you’d leave your room in just five more minutes.

Isolation is not safety, it is death. If no one knows you’re alive, you aren’t.

I think a lot about killing myself, not like a point on a map but rather like a glowing exit sign at a show that’s never been quite bad enough to make me want to leave. See, when I’m up I don’t kill myself because holy shit, there’s so much left to do! When I’m down I don’t kill myself because then the sadness would be over and the sadness is my old paint under the new, the sadness is the house fire or the broken shoulder: I’d still be me without it, but I’d be so boring.

someone: Christmas is so beautiful!!!