A dreamer that's what she was

I still remember reading the words that plucked at the sore parts of my heart, tearing off raw bites of sadness. How could she be so selfish?
 How pathetic that she actually thought she could go through with it and leave a note.
 I couldn’t relate to the reality of actually wanting to die until a certain age when I caught myself cutting into lined paper with red ink. The pen digging at my hand until my calluses grew tired from exposure.

How pathetic that I actually thought I could go through with it too, but soon the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have and maybe then the pain will stop. 

They say that for every birth 14 people have already died.

They say that for the 7 billion people alive, 98 billion people have already died.

How many of the 98 billion souls are still remembered and how many have become another speck of dust lying on the book shelf with nothing left but to be wiped away by a piece of cloth.

And to think you were almost an added collection of dust,

But you don’t need Jesus until your there.

Until you realize your entire existence was a waste, but maybe that’s not the point, because heroes leave scars on our hearts. 

She was a hero but now she’s a scar and I tried to taste the stars we bottled up but I threw them away and tried to focus on my thoughts. 
“My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.”  

I sat on the swings waiting for you while the wind blew and the branching shadows rearranged themselves on my skin. You never came that day… and that’s when I knew.

I ran down the street dreading the next few steps that lead to your front door.
 My hands trembled as I tried to unlock the door. Forcing myself to call your name I saw you lying on your bed. 

Your body stretched across the bed sheets that were now smothered in red stains. The only thing in your hand was an empty bottle and a shitty note.

I never knew death personally until it came calling for you… lucky for me there was no answer.  

The side effect of dying is begging for your life.

They say suicide has a domino effect, but I keep wobbling back and forth wondering which way I’m going to fall.

Football games, movies, and hanging out with friends suddenly tasted bitter coming out of my mouth. I can’t seem to find the girl who used to climb trees and swing on swings.  
 I think part of her died when I found you that day.

I told you heroes leave scars. 

Out of the 7 billion people alive today if we each remembered 14 lives maybe the 98 billion people who died wouldn’t feel like such a waste, because maybe dying would finally feel okay.

I tell myself I won’t cry but that moment has traced its way into my blood stream cutting through my veins like kite strings,

but I’m not afraid of scissors because I don’t believe in soul mates.

The truth is my kite flew away the day I saw my mom cry and I couldn’t feel a thing.

Numbness: the emotion I feel when I kiss or see my mom cry.

But the worst part of it all is that when I found you lying on your bed the kitchen sink was still on.