During my time in mental health services,
I have met many specialists;
eating disorder
domestic violence
“catholic care” (the red flag was right in the name)
and now I can add cancer to that list.

“Why do you think
you have a tendency to self-destruct?”
she asks, sat opposite me
in an uncomfortably clinical office.
I promised a friend I would
be on my best behaviour
but that didn’t last long
as I just smiled and said
that I am bored of living,
words dipped in saccharine.
She blinks
and leans back in her chair,
head tilting slightly.

Forty minutes
of wasted conversation later
and I am finally allowed to leave.

“I am bored of living
so I’m trying to make things
more interesting, I guess.
I suppose I get a weird kick
out of hurting people.
The more they care…
the more I push back.
I want people to give up on me
so they won’t miss me if I die.”

The words leave my mouth
and I leave the hospital.