Author: lina adams

if my sister had died when she tried to kill herself

dear gail,

you were everything i always wanted to be.

loud

outgoing

happy.

the only thing i never wanted you to become was like me,

i never wanted to see you shove your tears down,

never wanted you to deal with this crushing sadness.

but i promise you that i’ll watch out for the boys before it’s too late.

if i had one wish for you

it would’ve been for you to see everything i had planned for you.

i wish you could’ve seen the planes we would’ve jumped out of together

the sharks we would’ve swam with

the world we would’ve discovered.

but i’m standing here remembering that you’ll never see this.

i’ll never get my wish.

and i promise you that i’ll never forgive myself for it.

someday i’ll look at the human i’ve fallen into mutual weirdness with,

(or love, i guess)

and i’ll see our little hooligans running around

i’ll see your smile

hear your laugh.

i promise to always hold on to the pieces of you that are still left.

dear gail,

i’ll do it all

everything you never could.

i’ll jump out of all the planes,

swim with all the sharks,

discover every part of the world you never got to see.

i’ll make sure our brothers have love to hold on to,

make sure they know what the word “hope” means.

and i’ll look down at my little kiddos,

i’ll see their crazy aunt in everything they do.

i promise they’ll know everything about you.

gail,

your body may have died

but i promise you,

your love never will.

and today i realized that i am the biggest hypocrite of them all

i tell everyone to keep holding on

that there is light at the end.

that everything gets better as long

as you continue to wait.

i always tell people to have hope.

that they need to keep trying because

it is too early to give up,

that they have so much to live for.

then there is me,

and i am barely holding on.

-j.w.

some nights

the weight of my thoughts

is more

than that of the world

i carry

on my shoulders.

the world with an abusive mom.

who’s okay right now,

so maybe nothing is really wrong,

and i’m just dramatic,

giving too much credit to my anxiety.

maybe everything is fine.

and my depression isn’t that bad.

it’s just that i haven’t cared about anything for weeks.

and my mind whispers to stop eating

to stop talking

to stop trying.

but it’s probably just hormones from my period.

maybe everything is fine.

losing my best friend is not a big deal.

she’s just one person.

i’ve lost people before.

but it was nice to have her here.

nice to have someone

who saw all the dark parts of me

but somehow stayed

and kept loving me.

maybe everything is fine.

everything has to be fine.

i may be drowning,

but my lifeguards are in their own kind of suffocating.

and i am rescuing too many others.

but i sink

just a little more

every time i wake up.

and my thoughts only weigh more.

this is not a poem about grief. 

this is not a poem about a murderer.

this is a poem about someone who made it easier to breathe. 

it’s about watching the sun rise and seeing its rays of light kiss the trees.

it’s about buddhist diffusers and stolen halloween candy and words that felt like hugs.

it’s about how i can still hear her say, “i love you,” 

and believe it.

this is not a poem about first degree felonies.

this is a poem about her standing in the hallway to greet every student who walked through her door and even some who didn’t.

it’s about the plaque on her desk that read, “be yourself. i love you like that.”

it’s about the inside jokes we shared over college football and math teachers and pickle erasers.

it’s about learning to love and trust and hope,

praying it wouldn’t always hurt so much to breathe.

this is not a poem about gunshots.

this is a poem about all the lives that were supposed to end, but didn’t because of her.

it’s about red yoga pants and beanie weather.

it’s about counting on her to care, counting on her to listen.

it’s about learning what it meant to take care of myself like she taught me,

but only after she was gone.

this is not a poem about my teacher killing her ex-husband’s girlfriend and leaving me to deal with the gaping hole in my heart.

this is a poem about the hope she gave me.

it’s about being believed in.

it’s about knowing i was loved.

it’s about believing with my whole heart that when she was here, telling me she’d always be here for me,

she believed it too.

grief is a house

where the walls no longer hold us

the halls have forgotten the sounds of laughter

all the food is spoiled.

grief is a body that never gets hungry

that could sleep forever

-and it would never be enough

a body that moves slower

-because nothing matters anymore.

grief is repetition

it is saying the same things over again

and over again

and over again

and over again

pretending they will someday make sense.

grief is empty walls 

empty space

and an empty heart 

where she should be.

to lose someone you love

is to alter your life forever.

the pain stops, there are new

people, but the gap never closes…

this hole in your heart is the shape of the one you lost –

no one else can fit it.

-jeanette winterson

my heart is still here, still empty

it doesn’t matter that i’ve written this poem

so many times before.

or that i will write it

at least that many times more.

i still think you’ll be there to wave to on my way to math.

but i have it first period now,

and you were never on time anyways.

your walls are still shockingly bare.

they are blank and white and cold and empty.

every so often a math equation will fill some of the space,

and it will hurt all over again

when i remember that it was hope that you put up on those walls,

hope that you gave to us in the form of cheesy posters and your kids’ halloween candy.

it’a always the same

-empty walls

-empty space

-empty pages

-empty hearts

this space was all here and empty before,

just filled with potential.

but even that is gone,

because you are gone,

and you are not coming back.

i try to fill it.

i love everyone who’s still here.

i perform slam poems to my shampoo bottles.

i try to live.

but it’s been over a year.

and those empty walls won’t let me forget:

they’re not the only things that are still empty.

i still don’t understand how you just left

i never thought i’d write this

but i wish we were back in your car that day.

january weather reigned, but we were warm together.

i’d forgotten how to feel hope then,

refused to see any good at all.

when your sister has been dying for months,

hope doesn’t make much of an appearance.

i was too deep in my own denial

to see any light.

but you pulled me back

reminded me who I was.

a sister

a mother

a friend.

you told me that my sister wouldn’t live if she didn’t believe she could.

and for her to believe,

we both knew that i had to believe first.

you always pulled me back like this,

always thought me happy things,

gave me the hope i so desperately seemed to need.

you never really understood how bad my home was,

barely saw the hell i had to live in .

but you believed me anyway,

so i could believe.

things are still hell.

i never learned how to think my own happy things,

never learned how to give myself hope.

my sky is full of black,

the only star that guided me was you.

i don’t know how to rise above this

when it’s not you pulling me back up.

i need the hope you gave me,

i need someone to pull me back,

to remind me why i’m here.

i need you.

i need you here.

please hear me.

i need you.

depression is a house

where the walls are falling in

the piano is out of tune

you sink in the couch cushions too deep

warm water never comes out of the tap.

depression is a car

with a whiny engine

a radio playing mediocre sad songs

stains covering upholstery

sticky spots on the steering wheel

a broken gps.

depression is a person

who smiles at everyone

remembers all their names

has almost a 4.0 gpa

3 ap classes

a “perfect” family

new car

lots of friends

and eyes that haven’t seen color

for four and a half years now.

it is easy to sit on a pew in a dress

utter an empty amen

bear a long-gone testimony.

all you have to do is lie

to everyone

who has ever looked up to you

ever wanted to be like you

ever wanted their sons to date you

ever compared their daughters to you.

just remember that you’re still going on a mission if they ask,

still only need a temple-marriage.

count out your future kids,

they’re all your body will ever be good for.

get ready to cook and clean

your world is confined to the walls of your own home.

but no one ever asked me

if this wasn’t what i wanted.

only a sinner could dream of more.

even if it was love

at the foundation

of my iniquities.

some people still believe in wishes

they believe that somewhere in the universe,

someone is listening when they blow away pieces of dandelions

breaking them

until they no longer resemble

anything they once were.

i wonder if that dandelion can feel it.

i wonder if it can feel every layer as it leaves

until it no longer resembles

anything it once was.

i wonder if i felt it

when all the little parts of me were blown away

until i no longer resembled anything

i once was.

some people still believe in wishes.

i believe in car rides with dancing queen at a volume high enough to shatter ear drums.

i believe that tears of grief are actually just love that is stuck with nowhere to go.

i believe that maybe there’s a universe or god or some higher power somewhere that hears us.

i believe that even if there isn’t,

we are here to love

and to be loved

with everything in our souls until love is all that is left of us.

i believe that even if dandelions don’t resemble anything they once were,

they give hope to dying souls.

and i hope that even if i will never resemble anything i once was,

i can at least give that much.

even if i also believe in car rides with only the company of sad songs

and tears of grief that are really anger and bitterness and hate.

i also believe that even if there is a universe or god or some higher power somewhere,

they sometimes disappear.

but i still believe in love.

and sometimes,

when i forgo punctuation,

or laugh so hard i forget how to breathe,

fall into my big sister’s arms,

and remember that i am here,

that i am loved,

i still believe in wishes.