I once believed I was timeless-

That I would last forever in people’s memories

Simply because they claimed to find me memorable.

 

I am no longer sure if that’s true.

If I were to kill myself,

I think the rage might consume my loved ones.

I think my mother might shred my corpse to ashes.

I think my father might spread my ashes in different toilets;

Flush me into the sewers.

I think my sister might refuse to speak.

I think the friend who called my therapist when I told her I was suicidal might only shower in my blood.

I think the friend who never knew how serious it was might never jaywalk again;

She would always look both ways, even on one-way streets.

I think the friend who attempted suicide a week before I did might start screaming in empty parks again.

I think the friend who is no longer my friend and refuses to reconnect might regret it.

 

I think people’s lives might be changed if I’m gone,

But I don’t think they’d remember me the way I’d want them to.