Sue is Becide Herself

If you were to find this letter, would you suddenly remember all the times I mentioned I wasn’t okay?

Would you think I was being petty? That there was nothing in this world that could have made me feel this way?

I wouldn’t leave a note behind. Just soundbites of the times I told you all I was drowning.

Sinking further and further beneath the waves. Stretching my fingers as far as they’d go towards the surface.

Searching for a hand to grab hold of. Until I stopped reaching. Until there was only water in my lungs as I struggled to find the oxygen to hydrogen ratio.

Before the silence went from frantic to peaceful.

Embracing the end the further down I went, this is exactly what I was looking for.

And all I had to do was stop fighting to find it.

All I had to do was take a step closer to the edge and let the wind at my back push me over it.

See, how many times did I tell you all I was teetering?

In how many ways did I ask for help because my resolve was crumbling.

But you were too worried about each other, too invested in all the others to realize that the baby had fallen behind.

I was no longer ahead or next to any of you, holding silence.

I was dead, last, the finish line and horizon line blending together as the sheer desperation to stop moving, breathing, existing overtook my vision.

Could you imagine a world without me living? Without me at your side reminding you how many times I’d told you so.

Reminding you that I wasn’t just extra or collateral, I was a person too.

But I never mattered more than any of you.

No one bothered to check in on the one who was always willing to be of use.

To be needed or minded in some way. To insert myself into your realities, to make you accept that I’m here too, okay?

But it never was enough, was it? The only attention I received was when there was a need for something.

Because there I was, bending over backwards, begging to be loved.

Can you see me now that I’m gone? Can you remember all the time you’ve lost.

If only one of you had just listened. If only one of you existed on the same thread of humanity that I did.

If only one of you had believed me when I said I was breaking

So, now that I’m broken? What’s next? Surely, you’ll forget about me, you’ll worry more about who’s next and trying to hold on to them the way you never held on to me.

I wonder if anyone will feel guilty.

But the weight on my heart is still heavy, I can still shoulder it, breathe through it.

Hell, sometimes I can even move it. The room grows and shrinks, making room for all the things.

Taking up space where even a whisper wouldn’t fit.

I am still moving, still winding up the key in my back to keep going.

Hard days don’t make hard lives.

Because if I don’t, then who will? You all have each other, I have me still.

Be reasonable, understanding, patient, pacifying, the bigger person.

Be everything they won’t be, make them as comfortable as they need to be.

Bend over backwards, hold their hands, break yourself into pieces so that everyone has enough of you.

But you, you don’t get any. Besides, have you ever read your sister’s writing?

Did you know she’s amazing? Better than you, you know.

She’ll be famous, you should support her, show her all the tools you found for yourself, without any help.

Go on, give them to her. She used to be suicidal, do you want her to die?

No ma’am, just me, just mine.

And the other one needs your help, show her all the steps you took to therapize yourself; she has a daughter and we need her to stick around. She’s not done, and once she’s better, you’ll see, she’s gonna conquer the world

Yes ma’am, bloodlines and what not. Thinking I was the 3rd one until the 2nd duplicated herself, and now I’ve made it down to number 4.

Because who really needs to worry about the one always knocking on anger’s door. She’ll right herself once that fit of violence is done, she’ll fix everything once she’s done being so self-absorbed

And I will. I’ll fix everything with one simple step, and that may just be removing myself in the end.

Maybe it’d be for the best. No one left to fight with, all arguments would come to a head.

No more rules broken by a 30 year old child, no more boundaries encroached on, even when they overlap with mine.

You’ll no longer have to fight to be heard, or to be the most important person in the room.

I’ll get out of the way, leaving all the spotlight for you.

No more fighting, holding my breath, or patience to be had.

No more managing or mediating; I’d be done with that.

But unfortunately, I’m not as selfish as I thought. Not as willing to exit stage right as I have more and more of these thoughts.

Because, in the end, it may not matter to any of you, but you know what?

When all is said and done, curtains closed, and we've reached the end,

I’d miss me, if I were dead.