𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙄 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙈𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙄 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙈𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛...𝙄...𝙒𝙤𝙠𝙚 𝙐𝙥.

TW// strong talk of suicide and other various sensitive things/topics

Follow along with the audio please!

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My name is Wilbur Soot, and this is what happened the morning after I killed myself.

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The morning after I killed myself...I...woke up.

I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs, and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan, and, rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.

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The morning after I killed myself, I...fell in love.

Not with the girl down the street, or the high school secretary. Not with the everyday jogger, or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag.

I fell in love with my older brother, Techno, and the way he sat on the floor of my room, holding each guitar from my collection in his hands until they became slick with sweat. I fell in love with my father, Phil, down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle, and sent it into the current. With my younger brother, Tommy, who once believed in dragons, but...who now sat in his desk at school, trying desperately to believe...I still existed.

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The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog.

I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by, or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch, but saw nothing but the sky in my place.

I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle, and she wilted beneath their touch like...she once did for mine.

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The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors yard, where I left my footprints in the concrete as a two year old...and examined how they were already fading.

I picked a few daylilies, and pulled a few weeds, and watched the Feral Boys through their window, as they read the paper with the news...of my death. I saw Sapnap spit into the kitchen sink, and bring the group glasses of water to calm down.

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The morning...after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up.

Each orange tree opened like a hand, and Aimsey down the street pointed out a single red cloud to her partner.

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The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the body in the morgue, and tried to talk some sense into him.

I told him about the avocados, and the stepping stones...the river, and his parents. I told him about the sunsets, and the dog, and the beach.

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The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but I couldn't finish what I started.

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National Suicide Prevention Hotline:
1-800-273-8255

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Words: 500