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And If I'm Being Honest

by Curtis Sethaler

And if I'm being honest

I used to pray for death with the intensity and passion of a Sunday morning saint,
praying no one would see them at 3 A.M. Friday leaving the liquor store.

I would pray for prolonged illness, a heart attack, or head on collision,
something that would hurt me bad enough to someday die,
but leave me in agony for weeks because I deserved it.

I have begged the stars to fall on me,
for the wind to steal my breath away.

I've thought of choking and gasping and drowning till I ceased to be,
the burning of the water in my lungs,
sometimes when its cold out I can still feel it.

I used to have these vivid dreams, and I have wished them to come true, of climbing a thousand flights of stairs
And then running, and jumping,
and then falling what felt like forever,
but I'd always wake up before I crashed into the pavement.

I believe I deserved the torture, of a tumor, crash or fall, but then I'd ask myself, "How can I think these things?"

Because it's not normal
for thoughts like that to race through the head of a church going person,
three hundred and fifty seven times a day.

And if I'm being honest..

I've fought these thoughts for years now,
and I guess I always will,
but I'll stick around to fight this battle again tomorrow,
Like a thousand tomorrow's before,
And the thousands of tomorrow's to come.


Posted on 12/21/2015
Copyright © 2024 Curtis Sethaler

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/21/15 at 07:45 PM

Fascinating masochistic piece.

Posted by Rob Littler on 12/21/15 at 07:53 PM

...and I think I saw you on the battlefield.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/23/15 at 01:21 AM

Hmmm, possibly depression? Serious stuff here; might be good to talk to someone about this.

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