Hope is a mystery. To some, it comes naturally. But for me, it was nought but a myth, a fairytale story, a fable told to kids, it quickly got boring for I was more drawn to The End of my story.
See, I gave up hope long ago; my once-upon-a-time was enveloped in sorrow, the following chapters? Entrenched with tragedy, tragically came the monsters now intent on destroying me.
And with each quest and heroic prophecy, my dreams were abandoned, my willpower fading, the sliver of resilience was slowly disintegrating.
Next, I stopped reaching for happily-ever-after, instead I skipped chapters, never hoping, still followed by monsters, their poison still potent. And as much as I fought, as hard as I tried, victory was never mine.
Time passed, and at least my immunity grew, their toxins stopped hurting; Now only their words did.
Arrived the conclusion that I was still doomed, for one beast remained that would physically wound me: Not a dragon or man, not a hydra or teen, never could anything be quite as mean as the scariest one, my truest foe; Me.
Because no matter how scary those monsters may seem, only I would ever be my own worst enemy.
Though not literally poisonous, these thoughts are infectious, my behaviours? Obsessive. I begin to run quick, as fast as I am able, sprinting desperately to reach the end of this fable.
We’ve reached the last page, let’s wrap it up and set the stage;
I stand on a ledge, then I take the last breath, dreaming it to be my very last breath.
Time slows.
I glance back up and see you, eyes wide, crying, voices surround me, screaming I am awake but still dreaming I gasp for air as you grasp the hand I don’t remember raising.
We lay on the edge and you try to speak, sniffling, you say “Stay. This is not the final chapter. Please wait, you’ll see your happily ever after.”
Now this is the encore, so what is the moral? Words hurt, we finished the prequel, but wait this isn’t the end. Just rest, next it is time for the sequel.
We can mourn the eve of the very first book but hey, just up ahead, look-
Now it begins, we have access to the Bonus Scenes. The next adventure in the series of me, my hope and my dreams, so the moral is this;
Live.
Please.
Please give a detailed explanation about the meaning and main idea of this poem.
The meaning and main idea, I think, are relatively clear, but it's the importance of never giving up, and remembering that there's always a reason to Stay Alive (~~"Mr. Hamilton, come in, they brought him in a half an hour ago he lost a lot of blood on the way over (stay alive) is he alive?"--)
Please explain your writing and thought process regarding this poem.
I'm not really sure what my thought process was. I was terrified that someone I cared about would do the same and since I was in the hospital I wasn't able to reach out to them. I've had experience with suicide and suicidal ideation in both myself and loved ones. I think the poem I wrote transcribes the journey and the thoughts I had for years leading up to everything that has happened.
Why did you choose to write this poem?
To document my mental health journey and thought process while staying at a local hospital inpatient this summer. I stayed in the hospital for about 30 days and while I'm not fully recovered from what brought me there I'm doing my best.
Do you have any tips or anything to share with the youth writers who may be reading this?
Please, if you find yourself in this poem, reach out. There is always another way. Staying alive doesn't mean being okay all the time, or knowing why you're still here, but it's putting one foot in front of the other and enduring. Because YOU are a survivor, and there are people out there who care so much about you. If you ever need to chat, please reach out to a mental health professional or trusted person. If all else fails, email me @ t.bryans2008@gmail.com or @l0cal.l0s3r on instagram :) I'm here for you!
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