If you found out I was in hospital because I tried to hurt myself,
would you come visit me?

Would you run into the hospital and demand to see me?
If you saw them wheeling me into a different ward would you chase after me?
If they rushed me into surgery, would you beg them to save me?
Would you hold my head in your hands with your faces inches from mine and beg me to pull through?
Would you fall asleep in a stiff plastic chair just so you could be as close as possible to me?
Would you sit there for hours on end begging me to wake up?
Would you stay in the same clothes for days on end because you refuse to leave my side to go home and get changed?
Would you let your facial scruff grow out because shaving would be the furthest thing on your mind?
If they told you I wasn’t going to make it, would you slam your fists and demand they save me?
Would you break down in tears outside the hospital room begging me to make it.

I fantasise about all the things you’d do if I were in that situation.

But in reality, you probably wouldn’t hear about it until I was dead.