By Maggie Felisberto
I think too much about falling
off bridges into heavy traffic
I think too much about being hit full-
speed by an 18-wheeler tractor-trailer to be considered healthy
to be considered sane or normal
I hate myself sometimes, because of my inability
to do simple things like
read the books I’m supposed to be reading
writing the papers I’m supposed to be writing
depressed since December
severely impacting my life. I hate that
when I’m not depressed,
my anxiety over the depressive episodes is so high that I’m
I’ve picked up nervous ticks and habits…
scratching the back of my hand,
pulling at my hair,
tugging at my clothes.
beyond anything, there is no one
no one to check my fraying edges,
to pour wax on the loose threads of my soul.
I crave physical touch and intimacy,
crave the deep, quenching connection that comes from
two parched minds finding oasis in each other.
I crave, and crave, and crave, and am
If I were to jump off a bridge, I would jump
Not heavy traffic…
I don’t know why,
but I guess I feel fated to end in front of a speeding car.
This is a found-poem, with all lines taken and adapted from Maggie Felisberto’s private journal, from three different issues dated from February through April 2017.
If you or a loved one are feeling suicidal, please reach out for help. You can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 in the United States.