That night in November, his hands around your neck, your body crushed under his, the hateful look in his eyes, you remember. You said "I will not give him the fucking satisfaction. I WILL NOT DIE AFRAID." So, you narrowed your eyes and relaxed into death, accepting it as the edges grew blury and you felt piss run down your leg. Hard prey is not prey at all.

I will not die afraid.

The night in late August, those pills you knew were bad. You tested them with the kit you imported from Amsterdam. Poison made to look like ecstasy. You took it anyways, and suddenly, the world started to collapse. Your younger siblings were there. You promised you'd never use infront of them. So, you sit in the shower, clothes on. Cooling your body down. Staying awake. You felt fear. You called someone who didn't give a shit. You felt fear. You lost your mind and ended up in a pile of your dead lovers clothing, half dead. Refusing to die afraid.

I will not die afraid.

That night in late June, when you had your latest psychotic break, all from CBD. It was supposed to be safe. Right? You took your meds. You laid down. You became restless and couldn't stay awake. You knew you'd die if you fell asleep. Just like the last time. So, you laid on the tile floor. Your service dog pushing his way into you. Him licking your face whenever you put your head on the cold floor. The feeling of cold lightning in your chest. The hallucinations. You decided then that you would not die here. Not infront of him. So you asked your grandmother to call 911. She said no and took 16 minutes to get ready just to drive you while you screamed for her, curled on the rug beside the door. You screamed for her and said you didn't want to die alone. She told you to wait. She was getting ready. You had reverted back to being a child again. Screaming for their mom. Another time she never came.

And I will not die afraid.

Three years you spent living on the streets in your car and sleezy trap motels and on couches of people you didn't know. All of that time spent afraid, carrying weapons made out of extension chords and razorblades. Always feeling guarded, listening to the chaos outside while they slept off highs you couldn't live through. Three years of administering narcan, of speeding to the hospital, of dodging gang members, of dealing drugs. Three years that you took on a name that wasn't your own because the streets took it from you. Three years that you lived in a state of constant fear and yet..

I will not die afraid.

You remember those days when you'd cut yourself open just to sew them back up. Anything from knives to razorblades to broken glass. You had embraced the voices in your head that told you that you'd be better off dead. 13 was when you first tried to overdose, but you got scared. You felt fear as your best friends mom kicked in the door, screaming for you to throw up. You cried while she stuck her fingers down your throat. It was too late then. You feared because they feared. Your mom told you that if you're gonna do it then do it right. Don't call anyone to save you.

And I knew then, that I will not die afraid.

I would rather end my own life than to ever have someone get the chance to end mine for me. I will live without fear of retaliation or street wars. I will not be afraid to leave my room because I am safe within myself. I am strong and I am smart and I will not lose my life before I am ready and when I am ready to take it myself.

Cancer will not take me. Depression will not take me. Chronic illness and pain will not take me. Addiction will not take me. A stranger will not take me.

Because

I WILL NOT DIE AFRAID.