I was out on the dock
Of the lake one night.
I thought I was alone
But you just weren't in my sight.
With your hand around my neck
You swiftly struck out my light.
Then you tied the rope
To the cinder block so tight.
And you pushed me over the edge
Without me giving you a fight.
And I sank.
And I drowned.
And I lost all hope...

But then the rope...
It fucking broke.

I fought to the surface
Pain increasing with every stroke.
Leaving behind all the hopelessness
That you had evoked.
I reached the cool air
Now gasping as I choked.
I knew I had made it
Finally free from you and that rope.

So then my dear...
Then I fucking awoke.


You've been searching, 
though rubble from your past.
Just digging to find a reason, 
to make your life last.

You'll need to look skyward,
if you want to find hope.
Because looking back at those memories,
will send you straight to a rope.

Sometimes I Drive

Some days I wake up feeling okay. I am productive and genuinely fucking happy. Then out of nowhere… it hits. Depression.

Depression is like standing alone in a gray fog of nothingness, in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly being hit by a semi.

I can go from feeling on top of the world to complete emptiness in a blink of an eye. When this happens I drive. Sometimes I drive for fifteen minutes, sometimes for an hour. Driving nowhere. Driving in circles around the lake down the road from my house. Driving past fields of cows and happy little white houses. Driving down roads shadowed by the old oak trees I love. Then I blast my fucking stereo and I sing as loud as I can. I hold my hand out the window as I drive, feeling the air between my fingers, pushing my hands up into the sky. And then…

Then I feel a shitload better. For a little bit anyways. It always comes back though and I have a feeling it always will. However, I am coming to terms with these feelings and figuring out how not to fucking want to die. The feelings of utter sadness gnawing in the back of my head trying to make their way through. I will never be completely “okay”, but in these moments I know I have to push through because I am loved. I have people that count on me and want me to be on this planet. Even when death seems like the best option, I know that I can not let my loved ones down.

Suicide is truly a selfish act when you have people around you that care about you. I think… your death is like a pebble hitting water. The pebble hits and sinks down underneath the surface, never to come back up, and makes little ripples that effect all the water around it. The pebble isn’t just sinking like it hopes to, it’s moving and disturbing everything around it.

I refuse to be that selfish stupid fucking pebble.

Those reading my words right now, who understand, who are pushed to the edge on a damn near regular basis… I want you to read these words. You are fucking loved by someone and you will fucking prevail. Everyday might not be great, or even good, possibly even really really shitty… but you are worth it.

We are so fucking worth it.