tomorrow

Tomorrow, I will read that book I’ve been meaning to read about the girl who broke up with the love of her life.

Tomorrow, I will sit down and open my textbook, so that tomorrow after tomorrow, I can look at my report card and smile down at a 100%.

Tomorrow, I will go to that one person in the other class to whom I haven’t talked to in ages, apart from corridor pleasantries, even though we were inseparable a year ago.

Tomorrow, I will volunteer for the debate competition, and I will speak without doubting myself.

Tomorrow, I will open all those halfway-ditched projects on coding, writing, sketching, singing, and so much more, and I won’t just wallow in my self-hatred.

Tomorrow, I will open Google, and my first search won’t be ‘sad emo quotes’.

Tomorrow, I will turn on my laptop, and watch that anime movie I’ve been really wanting to watch, without feeling guilty.

Tomorrow, I will listen to all those songs that make me happy.

Tomorrow, I will listen to the songs I once played while lying in the dark on top of a wet pillow, and I will smile.

Tomorrow, I will open the newspaper, and I will not have to force myself to look away from the article about another high school suicide.

Tomorrow, I will text my friends, and when I say, “I’m great, wbu?” I will mean it.

Tomorrow, I will climb off the school bus, and I won’t put my head down so nobody sees the dark circles that reveal my late-night melancholy.

Tomorrow, I will slip that letter I never got around to sending into the recipient’s life.

Tomorrow, I will run back to class from the cafeteria, not because I can’t stand having people see me eat lunch alone, but because I love the feel of the wind on my face.

Tomorrow, I will open Instagram, but I will not lie in self-pity. Instead, I will appreciate that social media is a small, inaccurate window into one’s life.

Tomorrow, I will wake up, and I will go wash my face, instead of staring at my wrists.

Tomorrow, I will smile when I pass my childhood favourite teacher, instead of hanging my head in shame and hoping she doesn’t notice what the boy who loved to be curious has become.

Tomorrow, I will be very sincere when I tell my mother, ‘I feel great this afternoon!’

Tomorrow, I will fulfill all the promises I made to my father, from going out for a jog with him to giving my 110% into everything I do.

Tomorrow, I will go to bed, but I won’t spend 3 hours thinking of how pathetic I have become.

 

I will love myself, tomorrow.

Think.

An old poem I wrote more than a year ago.

 

Think.

 

You say he’s stupid
Fat, ugly, transgender
He’s got an eating disorder.
Homosexual, emo, full of crap
God, you’re such a drag.
And you think you’re being fair?
You label him, stupid, nerd, goth
Make fun of his scars, resting face and whatnot
And then, when he cries, “man up, you’re such a girl.”
You say men can’t cry, men can’t have insecurities?
You say he’s crying for no reason, after you beat him up in the school corridor.
You say he should go kill himself.
Well, you got what you wanted.
He’s gone.
Forever.
He left a note.
It said, “I did what you asked. Will you leave me alone now?”
His family is crying,
His best and only friend is depressed,
Everyone is blaming themselves.
“Good, were better off without him,” you say.
But at the back of your mind, a voice says, “You killed someone.”
“He’s dead because of you.”
“You’ll never get to apologise.”
And it’s right.
Because he’s never coming back.
Why should he? So you say he wasn’t manly enough to withstand it?
Next time you make fun of someone, think.
If you don’t, he could be gone before you blink.