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It's been a few years since he started contemplating suicide. It was nothing big at first, he doesn't even know with certainty when it started. He just remembers the cold, how he dragged his feet on the floor on that mundane friday morning, just thinking about how he wanted the sadness to go away. He guessed that was when it started.
He began throwing it casually into conversation. Joking about how he’d kill himself if their english teacher set more homework, or how he just might end it if he had to wake up another day. But it wasn't a problem. He was fine.
Until he wasn't. He didn't like begging, but in this moment, he just wanted for everything to stop. He wanted to beg, to plead to whoever was listening to end his pain. Why did he have to feel it? Was this karma for his life? For being a disappointment? He knew he was one, he just wished he didn't have to be reminded of it over and over again. A freak, that was what he was. He couldn't control his feelings, couldn't control the way he thought and that scared him. It scared him that he wanted to cry all the time, it scared him how heavy everything was, how heavy living weas. Waking up for another day was like sticking his hands in cold water in the winter. He was freezing.
He just wanted to live one day without seeing himself wrap an electrical cord around his throat and slip away. He’d been close to trying before. But he wasn't an idiot, he knew it was selfish. His family was barely together, barely holding on. He would crush them, he didn't want to be hanging around them after his death. He was a burden alive however. He knew his mother never wanted a son. His sister never wished to have a brother. The world never had time for a spare. Never had time for his dreams.
He wished he could try harder. He wished his brain did not work the way it did. He dreamed, and he was tired. Tired of living life instead of knowing what it really felt like to live. To breathe without feeling empty inside. Painfully empty. Nothing he did would make it go away. He could laugh, he could scream , he could laugh. But no act and no words left a mark.
All his life he wished for everything to end. It was ironic really, he could never finish anything. He was never good at anything, leaving everything half way. It seemed so easy to just let go, he could just stop and nothing would matter anymore. His life was forgettable, just another day and another story hidden away amongst millions. He was nothing more than another person, he would be only himself forever. He shuddered at the thought.
He knew he shouldn't spiral, give way to the sharks in his head. But it was so tempting, so alluring that he could help himself. It was futile to believe he could ever do anything but give up. His dreams were just that, he was nothing but dreams and no work to ever get them. He wanted more, everytime. But there was not enough time, a lifetime was never enough time for him to live life, to see the beauty the world truly held out there. He would never leave his print in the world, his voice would face, his face would fade from their memories, his pain and his sorrow would be nothing but the ephemeral playing of a piano. A soft melody, that would eventually come to an end.
He wished he could try harder. He wished his brain did not work the way it did.He wish he could fight his depression. He wished he wasn't happy for just a week. Everything was just something he'd have to think about and dream about to come and realize he would fail. The future was so fair and yet so close and so scarily uncertain. Time was moving faster than him, faster than he could keep up with what was going on. He couldn't attempt to do anything these days. Just doing what was enough to satisfy his family. Doing enough that no one truly knew that he just wanted out of life everyday. He didn't think he'd go today, or tomorrow. Trying would mean he failed, failing would mean staying alive. Staying alive meant pain.
It's been a few years since he first started contemplating suicide. A decision so final and so tempting. He knew it was going to happen soon, this feeling inside him, it only grew. Every way he looked, he couldn't see a future for himself, couldn't find it in himself to try anymore. It would come to an end, soon, fast. It was so easy to let go, so easy to feel the pain and sorrow. The unwelcome feeling welcoming him each time.
It was so easy to let go of life, to have his eyes close for the last time, to feel the last teardrop down his eye. Images fluttered through his head, but they were calm. Everything was fine, everything had stopped.
Things had come to an end.