Here is a list of reasons we should have quit each other long before we did:

Because, while driving in the car with you,
I looked at bridges and wondered
how big of a splash I would make
if I hit the water below them.

Because you never questioned
what I was thinking about
when I went silent for hours in the thrift store.

Because I didn’t think you’d care
that I was wishing it was big enough
for me to get permanently lost in.

Because whenever I begin to shake,
I hear your voice in my head,
listing all of the things about me
that will never be good enough.

Because, by the end,
I felt like I should hate myself
to have something in common with you.

Because I have to resist pounding my pillow
and screaming that you were supposed to be
one of the good ones.

Because I accepted you telling me
that I always victimized myself
and began to hate the tears in my eyes
and the way I’d sit in the corner,
picking at my scabs to win you back.

Because when I desperately asked you
to hide the pills,
it was like asking a stranger for a favor,  
not like confessing
that I could not stop thinking
about turning on the shower
and letting steam fill the room
until somebody realized I had collapsed long ago.