17

At 17 I was exhausted.
Not from a lack of sleep
But an abundance of life
That felt more like survival.

At 17 I memorised
Fire exits and hiding spots.
The first to ensure survival,
The latter to avoid life.

At 17 I should have been learning
How to drive a car,
Not hoping
That one would hit me.

I’m not saying death is beautiful
It’s uglier than my life could ever be
But at 17 I wasn’t living
I was surviving,
Barely

Copyright © Amber Kemp 2017®

* No part of this poem may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way or form or by any means electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the author.*

There are things we tell ourselves to help us survive and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it becomes apparent that in order to maintain survival we have to shift some of our focus onto trying to live because eventually, you realise that a life without living isn’t worth survival. 

So, if right now you need to focus on survival I fully support that. However, it will not work long term but I realise that we don’t all have the luxury of worrying about the future when the present seems impossible enough. Trust me, I know. But what I’m trying to say is that although survival may be your immediate priority, there comes a time when you need to choose life.

Just because you have survived worse doesn’t mean you don’t deserve better. 

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