a feeling cannot help itself.

When I feel like I want to die I ignore the thought

I know that it is a feeling that will pass or at lessen when I awake and there is so much beauty in the world for me to share

I think “I want to die,” and my thoughts stumble fumbling for a proper response. Trying to convince myself it isn’t so, listing the reasons I should remain:

1. The difficulty of suicide

2. The physical pain of Death

3. The cost of funeral expenses and incidental fees: Rent, School debt, etc.

4. The people I would leave behind: My family, my girlgang, my friends, the coffee shop barista who always remembers my name, the local baker who said I was his favourite customer, the bus driver who chats with me about his family, the book clerk who lets me wander and browse in peace, the bass player who brought me lilies, the librarians who watched over me almost every night of my childhood, the history buff who only cooked trout when I came over, the teachers who believed in me, the bartender who read philosophy and poetry with me, the uber driver who gave me the moon,

still the intrusive thought remains, “I feel like I want to die”

My feelings are valid and should be respected. I have stopped trying to argue them away.

I hear the voice as it grows softer over time, fading in and out of my mind. I wrap it in a blanket and sip hot tea. I hold it gently in my arms, siting beside it so that it can lay its head on my shoulder

I try to accept it not to hate the feeling for a feeling cannot help itself, to tell it-to tell me-that it is okay that I feel that way.

I can still love myself while feeling I want to die. I must love myself while feeling I want to die, to live. It may seem like a contradiction but the 2 things are not mutually exclusive, at least not for me.