To the girl on the suicide hotline
I told myself I was calling you because I had nothing better to do.
I told myself I was calling you because the last episode of Rocket Power was over, and a phone call with a stranger sure as hell beat an episode of Ren & Stimpy.
I told myself I was calling you because maybe you needed someone to talk to.
I told myself a lot of things.
Maybe that’s why I called you.
To the girl on the suicide hotline,
I’m sorry I never got your name.
It’s just when I started to speak my mouth drooled out waves of depression I never knew existed.
Suppressed memories cascaded into conversation like they had been sitting in a queue.
My lungs emitted every word I locked away from my therapist.
I’m sorry I forgot to ask how you found the key.
To the girl on the suicide hotline,
Thank you for listening to my mixtape of grievances.
I cried all the words that lingered.
“I’m tired of performing autopsies for lost friendships.”
“I’m tired of attending funerals of relationships that died without leaving notes.”
“I’m tired of mourning living people.”
You asked how long I’d been tired and I couldn’t catch my breath to answer.
I expected you to disappear into thin air, a magic trick so many performed before.
To the girl on the suicide hotline,
When you began rattling off possible solutions to me, my hockey senses tingled.
I was a defenseman, combatting each method of self-help you shared.
But you were a freight train of help coming and I an ant on the tracks.
You spoke of writing as a saving grace, of my brother’s smile I must have slipped into the pocket of conversation when depression wasn’t looking, of the way my grandfather lit up when Frank Sinatra’s voice filled the airwaves. You spoke until I caught my breath.
To the girl on the suicide hotline,
I never knew that CPR could be performed through spoken words.
I never knew that empathy could stitch together open wounds.
I never knew that a stranger would introduce me to hope.
We’ve been steady for three years now.
I can’t believe it’s been three years now.
To the girl on the suicide hotline,
I’m sorry I hung up before thanking you.
I’m sorry I hung up before learning your name.
But it’s just like you said,
I had a lot to get out of bed for.
I have a lot to get out of bed for.
