When you first see a suicide, you’d expect to be scared, horrified, and traumatized. Right? But for some reason, my first encounter wasn't like that at all.
I’d been walking along the riverside; the water was crisp and clear with the smell of the wild. The riverside was right by a park that I lived by so I often paid visits to it. On this particular day though, it had been cold, abnormally cold and humid. It wasn't raining out but I felt sticky all over. It was the weekend and school had just finished so I decided to enjoy my time outside before heading back home.
I liked drawing, and would do it often while laid by the water. I sat down and took my sketchbook out of my backpack and started doodling. Although I wasn't much of an artist, I worked hard on improving myself everyday whilst still studying hard in school. I mainly drew nature pictures, that’s why I put an effort into visiting the park.
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Aye, the beginning of a story that I wrote last year...
