Skip to main content

Stay put, don't go


If you are considering suicide or feel hopeless and helpless, please call the Suicide Prevention Life Line. 

Call 1-800-273-8255
Available 24 hours everyday
https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

please don't kill yourself.

I spent the winter and spring seriously contemplating suicide.

I managed not to do it.

I beg you not to do it too.

Don't do it.

It's easier right now not to do anything,

so do that

Do nothing.

Just lay there in your bed and cry
or don't cry if you are out of tears,

But I beg you
stay put,

don't do it.
stay here.

Don't go.

Stay put.

Tomorrow might suck
but it might not.

And a week from now might not suck too.

And there are sunrises and sunsets and puppies.

Also flowers, music, and the smell of sweet grass.

Really, those things are worth living for.

It's the small stuff.

There's lots of small stuff.
Much of it beautiful.

Even some of the ugly small stuff is beautiful.

Some people lose sight of that,
but don't.

You never know what song is going to come on the radio next.
It might be good.













Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Just don't call me Late to Dinner

A friend recently asked if I was ever called Maggie or if I'd always been a Margaret. That got me thinking about my name. I hate my name.  Hate it. I have never liked my name. It seems fine to call other people Margaret. It sounds agreeable enough when I say hello to another Margaret. "Hello, Margaret!" I might say. And the name doesn't offend me. It doesn't make me recoil or wretch. It's just a name. And a fine name at that. But it's not for me. I don't feel like a Margaret. It doesn't fit me well.  Hangs off me all funny and weird. Can't ever seem to wear it comfortably. I don't like to be called by name. Frankly, it makes me feel sort of sick.  When I was a chubby 3rd grader I decided I wanted to go by a nickname.   Peggy. I wrote it in my clumsy curly cursive on the front inside cover of my books.   I said it out loud to myself in the mirror. Peggy. Peggy! I liked it. First of all Peg...

possible blog material

possible blog posts for blogtober: 15 things you don't know about my left nut: 1. I don't have a left nut 2.  I do not even have a right nut As I can only get to #2, this idea needs fleshing out before I commit to it. Hahaha...fleshing out.  some things you don't know about my cat 1. I have a cat 2. she's a cat  3. she does cat things 4. she shits in a box   15 things I want to change about myself 1. fuck this shit 2. seriously 3. back off 4. you do not want to go down this path 5. really One billion (maybe this is too ambitious) observations made while sitting on the toilet  1. someone should really mop the floor  2. I need to get some new reading material in here,   3. I think the new Oprah magazine was in yesterday's mail  4. there are only so many times you can read about living your best life while sitting on the shitter  5. reading recipes while using the bathroom is sort of we...

We're in a horrible mess and I feel like I owe folks an explanation

Hey there friends. In the past, I haven't been shy about talking about my bipolar II, my near constant depression, and anxiety. Writing about my experiences has been a mixed bag. Sometimes I feel I am reveling too much and that I'm embarrassing myself.  Then there are times when people reach out and thank me for being honest about my mental health struggles. Some folks find comfort or solidarity in the stuff I write and that's good, because that's my hope and intention.  I've been mostly silent though about this most recent episode. It's been so dire I felt foolish discussing it much. It just felt too big to be real. I worried that people would think I was being overly dramatic. I have been tempted to dump it all out there like a bag of old garbage, but I though, who needs that. And frankly, at a certain point it felt like who cares, why bother, it's all a load of shit and in the long run, who gives a fuck. At this point though, I feel like I owe...