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Bathroom

Mental Health Poem

By Skylar RellaPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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I locked myself in a bathroom two days ago.

It was a single-stall bathroom on a college campus

With my friends having fun and laughing in the next room.

I didn’t go to the bathroom because I had to use it,

But because I had to get away.

I needed to escape from the crowd and be alone,

Even though more these days than ever,

I yearn for physical affection and support.

All I want is to be held and hugged and comforted

By those same people I run away from,

Out of fear of being left alone.

I locked myself in a bathroom for half an hour.

I spent the start of the time crying about the lack of love and care

The people I love and care for have for me,

And how unimportant and not special I am to everyone

Who is so important and special to me.

I spent the next portion of the time staring at myself in the mirror,

Thinking about all the things I want to accomplish in life,

But will never happen because I’m not as capable

As I like to pretend I am.

The next thing I did was look up the Trans Lifeline number.

I put it in my contacts,

But didn’t call.

I just stared at the number in my phone

For what felt like ages,

Telling myself how pathetic I am that it’s come to this,

And that my very existence in the universe

Is inconvenient and irritating to others,

And it would be even to the people who get paid

To talk to person after person

About the same genre of fucked up issues

In their lives and in their brains

And say:

“Don’t kill yourself. It gets better.”

Then I watched a spider making their web in the sink of the bathroom.

I thought about how much simpler life would be

As that tiny spider.

I wouldn’t depend on others so heavily,

I wouldn’t ever have to even think about gender,

Finances,

Image;

All that would matter would be my beautiful web.

My work of art would vary from all the others in the slightest,

And it would be uniquely my own

While never having to worry about

Onlookers or judges or competition.

The last thing I did when I locked myself in a bathroom

Was realize that unless somebody came for me,

I couldn’t rejoin the group casually

After being gone without explanation for so long.

I stood directly in front of the door,

Intricately thinking of and analyzing

Every possible scenario of

Strolling out of the bathroom and back to join the group.

Not a single hypothetical was one I could mentally or emotionally handle.

I considered the option of taking my life away

In that very bathroom.

I didn’t know how I’d do it,

But surely I could find a way.

September 4th, 2016--

That seems like a fine day to go down in the records

As the day Skylar Rella killed themselves,

I thought.

I finally pushed aside all thoughts and

Embraced my fear of leaving the room,

And facing the group all alone.

I reached for the handle of the door.

My heartbeat quickened,

And I feared that as soon as I opened the door,

After having collected myself to the best of my ability,

I’d break down and lose it

All over again.

And I knew that if this very thing happened once,

It would happen every attempted escape,

And I would be trapped in that same fucking bathroom

My whole life

In a viciously dangerous cycle

If no one ever came to save me.

But before I even opened the door,

Still holding the handle,

There was finally a knock,

And my heart did a backflip.

I experienced an intense wave of relief and fear

As my mind raced for the right words to say,

The right things to do.

I had forgotten how to speak.

But when I fought against my own body to open the door,

I was no longer alone,

And while I was still full of fear,

Everything felt the slightest bit better

Not alone.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Skylar Rella

visual & performing artist.

original art attached to written pieces.

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