Hey, I Hope You're Not Dead

A Poem by Blackbird

Hey, I hope you’re not dead.

Things have been alright, work’s been good and I’ve gotten to see my friends a couple of times. I talked to that one girl I told you about. The one I didn’t dance with. She’s doing good.

Hey, I hope you’re not dead.

Things are okay, I guess. Work’s been hard to focus on and I never really feel good about myself when I’m out with friends. I talked to the sibling of a guy I went to elementary with. I think he’s doing good.

Hey, I hope you’re not dead.

My grandparents might not be doing okay. They live far away and I don’t text or call them. I’m afraid to grow old. I haven’t been working on the things I want to at all. Some days I think I can be someone who doesn’t care whether I’m good at anything. Most days I can’t. There’s this strange kind of hurt as someone looks away from you when you’re looking into their eyes, trying so hard to be seen by them; trying to share in a smile that won’t last. I don’t know why I am the way that I am.

Hey, I hope you’re not dead.

The scary part about us being friends is that we’ll never really know if either of us is alive when we don’t answer. And we’ll talk and write and think about killing ourselves sometimes, whether or not we want to, whether we think we could even do it. And so when we don’t answer, we both assume the worst. That’s what I’m doing right now.

Hey. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever really been honest with, I love you, and I hope you’re not dead.