Coffee Pot

I remember the first time I actually thought about suicide. I was doing the dishes, and I broke a coffee pot. The only damn coffee pot. I was so sick of everything, of doing every fucking thing wrong, I just started screaming. And then that’s when I heard my mother’s voice. She said, “The knife’s in the drawer. Cut off your singer and you’ll be dead in five minutes. I walked over to the drawer, pulled out the knife, and pressed it to my finger, then my wrist. Hard. Until I winced and pulled it back. I spent the rest of the day sobbing under […]