To a character on a TV show who killed herself:

I needed you to fight

and give me hope to keep fighting.

I’m angry that you gave up.

I’m angry that part of me

often wants to give up.

I needed you to overcome your circumstances

so I could feel inspired to overcome mine.

I can’t sleep tonight

thinking about you,

thinking about how alike we are,

thinking about how alike I don’t want us to be.

I keep slamming into the same walls,

the same hopelessness,

the same feeling of being trapped,

the same feeling that

life is never going to let me have

what I want and need.

I’m so fucking mad at you.

Because I related to you.

And the only solution

you showed me

to a situation like ours

was death.

I’m exhausted.

I’m so fucking tired of fighting.

I’m so fucking tired of trying.

I was excited to see a woman like me

escape from the clutches of darkness

I thought you were drawing us a map to freedom

and instead…

I hate your creators.

They are shitty gods.

They couldn’t dream a better ending for you.

I write out alternate futures and timelines for myself.

I wish I could believe in just one of them.

Fuck you for dying

and for choosing death.

Fuck you for plunging me

into despair

on a night when I was only seeking escape.