Mom's cooking breakfast,
I smell the bacon,
maybe I'll miss that smell,
maybe . . .

I slowly get out of bed,
very slowly and carefully.
I can't think or feel,
I am empty.

It's a normal Saturday morning,
everything seems the same,
everything seems okay,
but something is different.

The voices in my head are silent,
my eyes feel heavier than usual,
and the ache in my chest still lingers.

I take one last look in the mirror.
I don't recognize the reflection,
but I know that it is what I've become.

I wanted to cry,
or scream, but I didn't,
I couldn't.

It was almost like tying a shoe,
and maybe I was getting ready
for a race, or a marathon.

But I wasn't,
I was quitting the race,
because I was tired, I?ve lost my breath.

It was a normal Saturday morning;
and I was sorry.