balderdash | poetry

MOM

Mom, let me just take this moment to tell you how I'm not afraid of dying, even if it meant that I won't be able to see you all again. I always thought I knew what I was doing—that I was brave. Death is something that isn't to be feared. But I wish I made better decisions.

Mom, I wasn't afraid of dying until your screams echoed in my room, where the pills for a temporary heaven yet a permanent escape circled my lifeless body. I can't fathom the pain you felt when you unconsciously rubbed my arm while you held me tight, "If only I noticed" endlessly repeating inside your head.

Mom, I never feared death until you realized that the last time you'll see me will be in a casket. I heard you beg to God to give me another chance to live. Your call was the loudest out of all the sobbing voices. You did nothing but cry, and cry, and cry, and cry, and cry.

Mom, I always thought I hated living until you witnessed my friends grow older and experience the life you would've wanted me to have. Tears flowed down on your cheeks as you recalled the laughter that erupted from my mouth whenever I was with them. The sorrow in your eyes screamed for forgiveness, and the walls of your heart was filled with nothing but regret.

Mom, I'm so sorry for running away from my problems. I'm sorry for being such a coward. I'm sorry for abandoning you. I'm sorry for being weak. I really am.