I first heard
the word "suicide"
during my 6th grade chorus class.
A couple girls were crying
in the back of the room.
Our teacher asked them
what was wrong,
and with words broken by sobs,
they explained that their friend
wasn't in school today,
and yesterday
that same friend
had said,
"If I'm not in school tomorrow,
it means I killed myself."
Now, these girls were 11.
They didn't know what to do.
Our teacher, who was at least 40,
was barely able to keep her composure
when she sent those girls down to guidance.
We got a lecture after that.
"You're not alone in what you're feeling."
"Talk to someone."
"People care about you."
After the lecture,
we practiced for our spring concert.
I felt weird singing after that,
but it was supposed to make us feel better.
It didn't.

8 years later, I am still trying
to understand the word "suicide."
Because now, I have to resist the urge to tell people,
"If I'm not in class tomorrow,
it means I killed myself," and,
"If I don't come to work this weekend,
it means I killed myself."
I have never uttered those words,
not once in my life,
but I now it makes sense to me
why that girl in my sixth grade class would.
The world is so full of pain
and suffering
and heart ache.
If your arms and legs are decorated with red and white lines,
if the very thought of his smile or her laugh brings you to the ground,
if you have no one to comfort you at 3 am
when your depression is running rampant
and your thoughts are so loud
that you have to cover your ears to quiet them...
that is no way to live.

When did it visit me?
I really don't know when.
It came out of nowhere,
I feel that it's a sin.

Naked in the shower,
washing up clean.
I felt this little lump,
scared and unforeseen.

Feeling all alone,
I looked up to the sky.
Fingers locked together,
I asked the Lord, "Why?"

Now, I lay in silence,
while the tumor grows inside.
Putting up these walls,
all I do is cry.

Months have gone by,
with the chemo and the draws.
The sickness took my *******,
now that's the final straw.

It's been six months now,
I struggled for my life.
I beat the **** cancer.
I AM HAPPY, I WILL SURVIVE!!

Things pass on, though slow it seems
They trickle like water past the rocks in a stream
Start slow as a whisper, and then climb to a yell
Start soft like heaven, then hard as hell.

Some things pass by and resound in ways
Like the whispers of the past that echo in caves
Like the tickle of the wind as it comforts me;
Carries worries on away on the ripple of a breeze.

On honey times a’ racing and times standing still
In the cracks of my heart there’s space left to fill
A minute seems short when forever’s on the line
You’ve given me a limit on winning all your time.