75. Just a thought. A whisper. A what-if. 74. I test the weight of silence, hold it in my hands. 73. Everyone talks. No one listens. 72. I count cracks in the ceiling, pretend they are escape routes. 71. My name sounds foreign when they say it.
70. I make a list of things I’ll miss. It’s short. 69. I start another list—things I won’t. It’s endless. 68. Someone asks if I’m okay. I forget how to answer. 67. I laugh too hard. It feels like breaking. 66. I cry in the shower. The water drowns the sound.
65. Sleep is a stranger. 64. I lose my appetite. Even hunger forgets me. 63. The mirror doesn’t recognize me anymore. 62. The days blur, smear together like wet ink. 61. I hear my own voice and wonder if it’s mine.
60. I rip old photos apart, scatter them like dead leaves. 59. My heartbeat is a drum in an empty hall. 58. I start talking to shadows. They answer back. 57. I see movement in the corners of my eyes. 56. The walls breathe when I’m not looking.
55. My skin feels too tight. 54. My thoughts are too loud. 53. I try to scream but forget how. 52. I write a note, then another, then another. 51. I set them on fire. The flames flicker like old memories.
50. Halfway there. A relief. A curse. 49. My hands shake. I clench them into silence. 48. I step outside. The world moves without me. 47. The stars blink. I wonder if they’re watching. 46. I lose another hour to the void.
45. My name no longer belongs to me. 44. My body feels borrowed. 43. I stop answering messages. 42. They stop sending them. 41. I bite my tongue to taste something real.
40. I forget what my voice sounds like. 39. Music doesn’t move me anymore. 38. The wind howls. I howl back. 37. I lose track of days. 36. The countdown is all that’s left.
35. I lock the door. 34. I lose the key. 33. I stop checking the time. 32. Time stops checking on me. 31. The air is thick. I choke on nothing.
30. They say people can tell. No one does. 29. My chest feels empty, like I misplaced something vital. 28. I press my ear to the ground, listen for a heartbeat. 27. Nothing. 26. Nothing.
25. The sky is too bright. It hurts my eyes. 24. The moon is too full. It mocks me. 23. I turn off my phone. 22. No one notices. 21. I am a ghost before I am even gone.
20. I stop pretending. 19. I stop hoping. 18. I stop waiting for someone to save me. 17. I stop wanting to be saved. 16. I stop.
15. The countdown is a prayer. 14. The countdown is a promise. 13. The countdown is all I have. 12. The weight of it is crushing. 11. I welcome it.
10. I can’t remember why I started. 9. I can’t remember who I was before. 8. The world is underwater. I am drowning. 7. I let the tide take me. 6. I let go.
5. The choice is already made. 4. I exhale. 3. I close my eyes. 2. The world fades. 1.
I once made a countdown for myself, writing a poem for each day I was still alive. I’m still here, for now.