I Hope You Never Understand

I hope
you never
know what
it’s like to
wake up
and wish
you
hadn’t.
Not
because
you’re
tired and
you want
another
few
minutes of
sleep; not
because
you’re
hungover;
not
because
it’s
Monday
and you don’t want to go to work.
I mean you wake up, and you realize tomorrow came —
and it’s not a good feeling. I mean you wake up and
you open your eyes, only to close them right away
and silently will yourself away from it all. I mean you
wake up and you are disappointed that you didn’t, by
some miracle, die in your sleep.
Quite simply, I mean waking up is just a reminder
that you haven’t escaped your life yet. You’re still
here. And I hope you never understand what it’s like
to wish you weren’t here.
I hope you never understand what it’s like to be
unable to get out of bed. Not physically — because
physically, you are capable. Your legs work. Your heart
is beating. But I hope you never understand what it’s
like to be unable to move simply because your
thoughts are crippling you. I hope you never
understand what it’s like to be held in place, stuck
there, battling with yourself within your own mind.
Swing that leg out and touch the floor. Take a step.
Get out of the bed.
I hope you never understand what it’s like to forget
what happiness feels like. I hope you never feel like
there’s no way out of your sadness. I hope you never
get overcome by numbness. I hope you never
experience that feeling of pure emptiness. I hope you
never feel like there is nothing good, or bad, coming
around the corner. I hope you never feel like you can’t
imagine there being a future for you.
I hope you never need to rely on people to remind you
to eat.
I hope you never need to rely on people to remind you
to sleep or to be awake.
I hope you never need to rely on people to remind you
to take your multiple medications on a daily basis.
I hope you never, ever need to rely on people to hide
all the sharp knives in the house so you can’t get
hold of them to hurt yourself.
I hope you never, ever need to be checked on every
time you take a bath, just because there’s a chance
you’re trying to drown yourself.
I hope you never know what it’s like to not be trusted
near open windows.
I hope you never have to convince yourself not to
jump in front of the train as it approaches on the
platform.
I hope you never understand what it means to be
afraid of opening the front door and stepping out into
the real world.
I hope you never have to force yourself to appear
normal and happy when all you want to do is run and
hide, and never come out.
I hope you never understand what it feels like to
worry that everyone in the world is against you.
I really hope you never understand what it means to
feel completely alone while you’re surrounded by people.
I really, really hope you never understand what it
means to want to end it all.
I do hope you understand that you can’t always
understand.
I do hope you understand that you don’t need to
understand.
I do hope you understand that you can’t fix
everything.
I hope you understand that no one thinks you can,
and no one is expecting you to.
I think you do understand that no one knows the
battles other people are fighting.
I think you do understand that we all have our own
stories.
I think you understand that we don’t need to
understand each other to support each other, and to
love each other, and to wish the very best for each
other.
I think you can see that all anyone has ever wanted
is to be accepted.
So, stand by me. Lie next to me. Sit with me. Talk to
me. Stay silent. Hold my hand or smile at me. Tell me
you’re with me and that everything will be okay,
someday. It might not be now. I know that. I might be
hurting for a long time. I might be numb for a long
time. I might be happy for a long time, and I might
feel myself falling down the tunnel again.
So just tell me you’ll stay with me and you’ll protect
me from myself, because that’s who I’m most afraid
of.
Tell me you’ll hang out with me until the storm
passes. And then, once it has, hang out with me
some more.
You don’t have to understand me. I don’t want you to
know what this is like, because I know it’s awful, and
that’s enough. I don’t want you to know it for
yourself.
I just want to know that you’re here with me.