Someday I will stop feeling like there’s no point to life.

When I was younger I would sit on my bed and wonder
why I should even try in life when one day none of it will matter.
One day we will be dead and gone
and what happened when we were alive will amount to nothing.

A year and a half ago I lay down on my bed,
my head consumed with voices interrogating me; screaming “What’s the point?”
Depression would creep up on me during the night like a child playing a cruel prank.
The next morning, I would wake and look myself over.
I would see the bloody marks covering my body
and dried teardrops plastered on my glasses
as I saw where my mind wandered and questioned why the hell I’m still here.

Now I am more than a year clean.
Everyday I look myself over in the mirror and contemplate breaking it
and using the glass shards to tear through my skin.
Then I remember I have people who give a damn about me.
Sometimes I trace the tiny scars on my thighs and forearms and wonder why.
Why when I was five, a simple splinter on my hand was the end of the world,
but there I was just a year ago intentionally making slits in my skin.

Before I know it, I’ll be 20 years old
and I’ll wonder what happened to that teenage girl.
Why did she spend so long hating herself?
But then I’ll realize that teenage girl never saw herself turning 20
because she didn’t think she would make it that far
But she will.
And oh God, will she be proud of herself for doing so.

Someday I will stop feeling like there’s no point in life.