trigger warning: suicidal ideation
kilometer 0
it’s hard to go on walks when all you can think about is how much you want to die.
you put on your running shoes and turn the music on so loudly your ears start ringing,
but even then, your thoughts come crashing down like angry waves on a shore.
it takes a tremendous amount of strength for you to eventually start walking.
kilometer 1
you try to sort through the flurry of thoughts but they’re going by too fast.
a headache starts forming in your head, but you write it off as lack of sleep.
your insomnia returned a few weeks ago, sleep replaced with long nights staring
at a ceiling for answers, you can’t find.
“what did i do to deserve this?” silence.
“will i ever be enough?” silence.
“when did i stop feeling?” silence.
the silence is so loud it bleeds into your nightmares.
kilometer 3
your lungs hurt, but you’re not sure if it’s the wind or if it’s the constant lump in your throat.
you have been numb for so long, that feeling this hurt eat away at you is overwhelming.
you walk faster to shake it off, but the air feels like it's drowning you.
so, you think about how much kinder it would be to cease to exist instead.
kilometer 4
you can’t turn the music on any louder, so you run.
you run until the air stops drowning you.
you run until you start feeling something other than the hurt that failed to sharpen itself into a knife,
but instead grows blackholes inside of you.
you run until your knees buckle but you’re not sure if it’s because of your weakened bones
or the weight of your thoughts.
kilometer 5
you write letters to everyone you know in your head.
lap seven titled “dear mama,” lap eight titled “dear brothers”.
they always end with “i hope you can forgive me.”
your heart is so heavy you feel it in your stomach.
tears well in your eyes but you push through. you have always pushed through.
a stranger looks at you in concern, but you smile at her like you can afford to.
like you have never known sadness so profound it cripples you.
kilometer 6
you head home earlier than planned.
too full-on unprocessed emotions you skip your carefully calculated dinner.
your mom questions why you’re home earlier than usual,
but you can’t tell her that it’s hard to go on walks when all you can think about is
how much you want to die.
so, you smile and say you’re tired instead.
-hammie
11:42 pm
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