To the Young Who Want to Die - My Response
I wait, and the feeling passes. Just like it always has, just like it always will.
When I was 17, I wanted to die.
I thought nothing could get better.
I thought I was born in the wrong body.
I was not.
I waited.
When I was 18, I wanted to die.
I had lost my grandmother.
I felt life wasn’t worth living.
It was.
I waited.
When I was 19, 20, 21, wanted to die.
I was in an abusive relationship, it was terrifying.
Sometimes I wished he would just kill me, I felt too scared to leave.
I wasn’t.
I waited.
When I was 22, I was pregnant. I wanted to die.
Despite her being wanted, the hormones didn’t agree with me.
I felt like I couldn’t carry on another day.
I could.
I waited.
Now I’m 32. Sometimes my brain still tells me I want to die.
I don’t.
So I wait, and the feeling passes.
Just like it always has,
Just like it always will.
I’m so happy that I waited.
Wait with me?
To the Young Who Want to Die by Gwendolyn Brooks
Sit down. Inhale. Exhale.
The gun will wait. The lake will wait.
The tall gall in the small seductive vial
will wait will wait:
will wait a week: will wait through April.
You do not have to die this certain day.
Death will abide, will pamper your postponement.
I assure you death will wait. Death has
a lot of time. Death can
attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is
just down the street; is most obliging neighbor;
can meet you any moment.
You need not die today.
Stay here--through pout or pain or peskyness.
Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.
Graves grow no green that you can use.
Remember, green's your color. You are Spring.