I see it
Lying there in the cutlery drawer
So shiny
Pretty silver, flashing
Mold and mildew from the wood
Cool to the touch
Like the numbing anesthetic
Pumping through my veins
I can hear my heart beating
But I can't feel it
The blade, worn
By meats and cheeses
The flesh of fruit
My flesh
Softly pressing against the handle
Knife at my wrist, I wait
And wait
And nothing happens
No burst of courage
No determination
Just fear
Fear as I press the metal down
Fear as it creases my skin
Fear as it marks me
With a rosy welt
I can't do this
Snap it away from my wrist
From my blood
Before it can spill
Before it can overflow
It rests in its drawer
Unsoiled
My blood, safe
My life, safe
At least for now
Author notes
For the Chicken Soup for the Soul you Don't Have Contest, I would like to submit this Under the name Ella Quist, and I am sixteen years old. If that's not okay (if you only want real names), then I would like to submit it anonymously.
I wrote this for a contest, but this actually occurred. I wanted to commit suicide, but I didn't, because I was scared of the pain. Now, I'm glad that I'm alive, even though my situation is even more difficult. I realize now that I was clinically depressed. So, whoever reads this, DON'T DO IT. Trust me, you'll be glad that you're alive later on, even if right now feels like shit.
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