by Violet

If you are reading this and find that you do not like me very much, I completely understand. I don’t like me very much either these days. I feel like a zombie, walking dead, chasing every high so I don’t have to feel low again.

If you are reading this, I may have already stopped breathing. If you never got to see my face before the last drop of life left me, maybe now is the time to pay attention.

If you are reading this, if I’ve given in to temptation, then the blade struck true and it didn’t hurt as much as I expected. If everything stopped mattering to me, maybe you will taste the regret in my previous warnings.

If you are reading this, if my parents are still crying, if yours are perplexed as to why you’re not alright, maybe you will tell them I was different. Please don’t cry, that was never my intention.

If you are reading this on a day that you weren’t planning on being important, if my blood has been spilt and the needles won’t stick because there’s nothing left, you won’t have to whisper anymore. Attend my funeral and tell me what you’re learning. 

If you are reading this my darling, tell me you would have stayed. Look back to our mistakes and promise you wouldn’t have forced me to learn how to be lonely, and I would have survived because you noticed.

If you are reading this, you must really hate me now. I kept all the pictures I forced you to erase, it was the most selfish thing I’d ever wanted, and a hollow gesture to replace all the emptiness you granted by leaving.

If you are reading this, you may not recognise me. I spent the last part of my life trying to kill the part that still loved you. I smoked enough cigarettes to forget how to eat, and now my clothes fit too loosely and I never sleep.

If you are reading this, it’s too late to tell you I’m sorry. With every sip, every breath, every lie, I nodded away the rest of my sanity on cold rainy days. I hope you remember the last time I smiled at you, I hope that’s what you remember me by.

If you are reading this, I am beyond hope. Heaven won’t accept lost souls, I’ve been trapped at the gates because I still think of you as home. If you could only let me go without taking all the air with you.

If you are reading this, I’ve tried to write you crappy poetry but the words just don’t seem to mix and the picture I painted is not quite what I expected. Please promise me you’ll rewrite the ending to our story.

If you are reading this, know that you have lost the power to wound. I am forever out of your grasp and the pain will subside, the hurt will disappear entirely, and I can finally rest without hearing your voice in every dark corner.

If you are reading this, I hope you’ve met someone stronger than me. I hope she reminds you of daisies and smiles more brightly than the sun. I hope she leaves you breathless in the morning and you learn to love her better than you loved me. If you are reading this, believe me, I’m fine.