5 minutes 12.2.18

Quick thank you again to everyone that has stood by me through everything I have been through, and given me endless love and support. I appreciate it more than words can say.

This poem especially is dedicated to my beautiful mother, who helped me out of the bad place I was in up until early last year and taught me that life is something beautiful that needs to be enjoyed. I love you so much, and thank you thank you thank you.

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5 minutes is all it takes for your life to do a complete 360,

for everything you ever knew to flip upside down.

To jump out of the car,

not thinking straight—or thinking at all—

just wanted out of the pain of the past years,

of the torture from people that were supposed to be your friends.

To cry in the bathroom right before your next class,

the late bell looming like a warning,

rushing to fix your mascara so no one notices.

To get the call,

as you sit there complaining about your algebra homework,

and suddenly homework doesn’t even matter anymore- suddenly

you’re sitting in a gurney in the hallway of the ER

and nothing will be the same again because in the next room

lies your great grandmother, and having to hear everyone say goodbye

over and over and over and over

feels like a bullet ricocheting in your chest.

To lose your best friend,

over words you can’t even remember

and cry yourself to sleep for months and months,

all alone even when you’re not.

To say you don’t want to die,

and finally mean it.

You see everyone’s pain while you were gone, you saw the letters and the drawings

and the Hershey’s kisses (because they know they are your favorites)

and the smiles and the hugs and the way your dog jumped three feet in the air when he saw you back after an entire week,

and you realize you don’t want to leave all this behind.