I Think

A poem

TW: Suicide

First and foremost, if you’re reading this, I’m okay. To put it simply, bad brains think bad thoughts and mine ponder “the thoughts” of this poem with some regularity, and sometimes bad thoughts become something else. I won’t call those acts bad, just as I would never speak ill of the dead (unless that dead person was a fucking chode). I’m putting my bad thoughts here in the form of a poem. It’s important to note that 1. I’m not a poet and 2. These words, these thoughts, were screaming in my head. They needed to go somewhere, and this is the spot I chose.

If you’re having bad thoughts please, PLEASE, talk to someone. It feels so cliche to say “you’re not alone,” but it’s true. You’re not. Talk to someone you trust, and if there’s no one, please reach out to 988 Lifeline.

“Anguish” by the painter August Friedrich Schenck

I often think of taking my own life, and when I do,

I think about the tiny ways in which I wish to inconvenience no one.

I think of canceling all of my subscriptions to streaming services,

I think of paying off my debts,

I think of all the people who have ever said,

“You matter, you are loved”

and how I didn’t believe them.

I think about all of the badness in the world that I did nothing to change.

I think of the people who would be hurt if I wasn’t here anymore,

and I think, “Oh no, they will not think of me. They won’t remember me.”

I think of all the people who say I don’t practice enough “gratitude.”

I think of all the laundry I failed to do,

the kind words I won’t say to those who need it,

the podcasts I stopped making for everyone to enjoy.

I’ll think about all the detritus I’ll leave behind,

the shelves, and the books that sit on them.

I think about leaving a note,

but don’t want to offend anyone.

I think of all this food that going to waste.

I think of my cat and my dog,

and hope they’ll be taken care of.

I think of my mother who would often remark,

“The same time next year, I might not be here.”

I think of my cousin who did what I so desperately want to do.

I think, and I take a moment, and I think.

I think.

I THINK.

And finally, I think of me.

I think of how the world could use less of me.