But
One voice
In the wilderness
Seeking acknowledgement.
Of the struggle
To find
Self-acceptance
And self-worth.
Knowing
My own journey
Hasn't been
The hardest
Or the easiest.
To reach
This point of my life.
As a dark cloud
Looms large
Over my horizon.
Feeling myself
Shrinking
Into nothingness.
Except
A bubbling cauldron
Of negative emotions
And empty space
That once housed
My physical body.
In wondering
What difference
In my presence
Making.
Other than
A space filler
Most people don't see.
Even if
I'm standing
Before them
On the sidewalk.
Unless
They stumble
Over my feet.
Maybe
If I'm lucky
Tonight
I won't wake up
On the morrow.
Rather
Will find
That sacred gift
Of true peace.
For my body
and soul.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: If you asked me, at the moment, what my level of suicidal ideation is, would have to tell you, it's about 5-5.25, an increase, from Friday's levels of 4.5-5. As I find myself, in the balance, between being passively and actively suicidal. For most of my life that I can remember, these thoughts have always been a part of my life. Existing, most of the time, as a background static, like a radio, just out of tune, for that particular station, you're trying to tune in.
Right now, I am, in no danger of committing suicide, beyond the radio, is getting tuned in.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: If you asked me, at the moment, what my level of suicidal ideation is, would have to tell you, it's about 5-5.25, an increase, from Friday's levels of 4.5-5. As I find myself, in the balance, between being passively and actively suicidal. For most of my life that I can remember, these thoughts have always been a part of my life. Existing, most of the time, as a background static, like a radio, just out of tune, for that particular station, you're trying to tune in.
Right now, I am, in no danger of committing suicide, beyond the radio, is getting tuned in.
