Reasons to Stay Alive

my cat purring in my lap,
urging my brain to release the dopamine it so desperately needs.
depression is a hell of a bitch,
and I am the fallen angel struggling in its jaws

rationally, logically, there are many things to live for:
my family, my friends, my partners, my kids
but that is the big picture, and I am looking through a hole the size of a pinprick,
and I am struggling to see clearly

my last journal page is titled "bad thoughts"
I am yet to fold them away and secure them with a piece of tape.
I am not superstitious, nor do I believe in witchcraft,
but I can feel the words leeching off paper and haunting me

I try to think of the small things, the everyday, the menial:
the warmth of the sun on my back as I relax outside,
the smell of smoke that lingers in the air after a candle is blown out,
how I'll seemingly never get bored of blueberries, maple syrup and vanilla

I am scared, that if I experience my perfect day,
there will be no motivation for me to stay;
I do not want my death to occur after sadness
it is my escape, and I want it to be beautiful