On September 5th, I walked into my hell. Others hated me and I hated myself as well. On June 15th, today, and only hours from now, I'll walk out of my heaven and never come back. I love others, others love me, and I love myself.
But despite progress, some things I may never be able to shake lose. I'll wake up cold on a July morning, wishing I was with those that I cared about. The first to ever care about me. Wishing I knew if they were okay. It's those I love that I see in my nightmares.
In an hour I will arrive at my last day. I will shed tears, and others will as well. A part of myself will be left in the building that treated me terribly for so long, and then taught me self love. I found people I would die for without hesitation. Those people might find others better than me, I understand that. I might lose them.
But I might not. I suppose I'm scared of losing anything, even the cafeteria where half of my lunches were spent sitting alone and feeling depressed. Even more scared of losing a room, I'm scared of losing the people. The people that are the only reason I chose 'life.'
So to them I say, 'today is the last day of school. The last day we roam these halls and arrive to these classes. The last day we have these teachers and sit next to these people. But please, promise me, that this last day won't be your last day with me.'
YOU ARE READING
Quiver
Poetrya place where I've written my feelings when I felt them. it has become a story of depression and recovery, love and loss, hope and fear, and everything in-between. mostly poetry, sometimes stories. :)
