Flip To Page 66

I bought this journal because my therapist told me to
She told me to “write down my feelings to express them,”
So that’s what I’m going to do

I fill the pages with self loathing and self pity
Sometimes I fill the pages with “I hate you,”
Written again and again

I leave the inkings of my heart on the paper

Page 1: I don’t have much to say.

Page 2: It’s just another regular day.

Page 3: Today was a bad day, I can’t keep these thoughts at bay.

Page 4-40: I hate everyone, I hate myself
Hate, hate, hate suffocating the pages. I’m done.

Page 41-50: I can’t stand another day, why must I suffer so much. This pain is a debt that I must pay.

Page 51-60: I have nothing, I am nothing, nothing matters.

Page 61-65: It’s been months and nothings changed. These thoughts are driving me insane.

Page 66: I can’t take this anymore
Every breath I take is agony
Blood splatter is on the ceiling and the floor
So here I stand on the 100th floor balcony

I’ve made a profound self discovery
With irreversible consequences
Once I push myself over the edge there’s no recovery
I’m now self aware, I’ve come to my senses

My therapist would be so proud
The sirens in the distant are wailing so loud
My toes dangle over the edge
As I stare into the flower beds

I’m sorry if this hurts you or seems sudden
But I’ve had these thoughts ever since I can remember
I wish life had a reset button
So cremate me and turn my flesh into embers

I’m sorry if you think I’m weak
But my life is bleak
Writing down my thoughts has opened my eyes
About how my existence is feeble and meek

I can’t keep up this facade
It’s a fools game of charade
So I’ve decided to acquaint
My face with the pavement

Before I meet my end
On the front of this journal,
I etch
“Flip to page 66, for the reason I’m dead.”