Self

Once upon a time, I put someone above myself.
I loved them more than they loved me, I loved them more than I loved myself.
I felt truly alone when it was just me; my thoughts a loud bully, constantly reminding me of my imperfections, heartbreak, and mistakes.
I didn't know how to stand up to it, I didn't even love myself enough to tell it to stop.
I often felt I was trapped in the small space of my car, nothing but steady silence and myself as company.
I watched as the trees whizzed by and I wondered what it would be like to hit one.
It would be swift I thought, it would be quick and terrifying and as easy as a jerk of the wheel.
How would you react? If I died, if I landed myself in the hospital, if you heard of what happened, what would you do?
And then I knew.
With every thought of dying, every thought of pain and ending and suffering and punishing myself, I never once thought of myself but you.
It wasn't about the people I would miss, the things I would miss doing, or how I felt about- well dying.
It was always about what you would think, if you would miss me, how you would feel- if I was gone.
How could I hate myself so much, to jeopardize my own life with the hope of gaining the attention of someone else.
So I stopped. And I started.
I know now.
It's me, it's always been me. I am my own soul mate and best friend.
I will never again put that fate into someone else's hands.