I Found Myself

Imagination is a powerful thing. They always say not to kill yourself, but to kill the parts of yourself that you don't like. I never accept help when I need it. Change is about sacrifice.

I found myself on the busted tarmac

of an endless stretch of desert highway.

The sun had cracked my lips

and turned my skin the colour of strawberries.

When I held out my hand and asked myself

if I was okay,

I brushed it aside

and said I was fine.

I watched myself die on the pavement.

I found myself in a dead-end alley in New York in the middle of winter.

My gloves had holes and my face was gaunt.

I held a soup can full of pennies in my fist.

When I held out my handful of change and asked myself

if I was okay,

I shook my head

and said I was fine.

I watched myself die in that cul-de-sac.

I found myself on a mountain pass in the dead of December,

surrounded by snow.

The cold had frozen shut my eyes and blackened my fingertips.

When I held out a blanket and asked myself

if I was okay,

I curled up in my coat

and said I was fine.

I watched myself die in the frost.

And now, sitting at a Formica table in a diner

off a random highway line, empty palms clutching a mug of cold coffee,

the waitress eyeing me from behind the counter,

wondering if I'll ever order more than just a cup,

I realise that, while I died horrible deaths many times,

I learned what true thirst, hunger, and loneliness was like.

And I realised that the only way to become

who I am now,

was to watch myself die repeatedly.

Author's Note

I've experienced all those feelings, but not the experiences.