My Versions of Asking for Help at 2:00AM

Hey,

I know it’s late

but I’m trying to stay okay

like really trying

like I’m sitting here in the dark

holding on to a silver butterfly that somehow

fell in love with my computer screen.

Like, I’m trying to pretend as if nothing’s wrong

and practicing my lying is the only way to stay afloat.

So can we talk in metaphors

and play games with the moon?

Hey,

I know it’s the middle of the night

but I don’t want to drown in an ocean of shadows anymore

because the ocean became a hell that I didn’t see coming

because I just loved how lovely the setting sun looked over the water.

I’m trying to swim

but the ocean is full of blood

and only disease can swim there.

I think the ocean is inside me.

I think I swallowed it with the rest of the world.

I think it tasted like chocolate,

like the kind of sweet that isn’t too sweet,

but the kind of sweet that makes you want more.

I think it’s making me sick.

I think I shouldn’t be talking to you

because what if it’s contagious?

Hey,

I don’t know you that well,

but texting someone in my contacts in the middle of the night

is better than leaving a suicide note for strangers

tucked away in odd places

like behind the mirror or on a google docs on my computer

or in a pile of ashes on the floor.

Hey,

Would you happen to know the definition of happy?

I guess it’s an odd question to ask in the middle of the night

but I promise I will pay you back with all the silver butterflies

and broken promises that I keep tucked under my pillow.

Hey,

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I have to go vomit up all the oceans

the world placed in my throat

or tear them from the veins myself.

Hey,

I don’t have a last line.

I don’t have the strength to stop the raging ocean.

I don’t know how to write a note. But I do know

how to ease my fist into a hand,

to let the trapped silver butterfly go free

let it fly off into the night to be what it really is

not a metaphor, just a moth.

A beautiful thing I can say I held

just for a moment, until we are strangers again.