Author note: i wrote that while listening to duster, i really recommend that to feel the story better. [554 words]
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I think i'm delusional.
I shouldn't have to explain this, but nobody believes me. I've tried everything to be heard, seen. I've talked to my parents, only to be called a maniac and thrown out of the house. I menaged to purchase a small apartment with savings i've been planning to spend on college tuitions. I adopted a stray cat that wouldn't leave me alone when i was walking home from school. Even tho he was a good companion, i felt the most depressed i've ever been. I was all alone.Talking to my family wasn't the only thing i tried. Every professor i've mentioned my worries to either ignored me or talked down on me, making me feel as if my feelings were invalid, as if me being a man completely erased the possibility of a mental illness growing inside of me.
I went as far as attending a therapy appointment, which i had to pay for with little money i had left from my minimal wage job. The therapist was nice. She listened to me and didn't invalidate me because of my gender. She even reffered me to a psychiatrist, but i couldn't afford that.
I don't even know if i'd be strong enough to understand all of these things the doctor would tell me.I'm very self aware, i've accepted my mental health a long time ago. The thing is, it was worsening everyday, making my existance insufferable.
The voices i've been hearing, telling me to hurt animals, a voice that wouldn't leave me alone in school, screaming in my ears, as if it was torn apart. Last night i had a full conversation with a man in his thirties, before realising no one was in my apartment with me.
That's why i decided to kill myself.
Everything was ready. I drank heavily at a club with a music loud enough to get me some peace from my delusions. It was the best night of my life. Walking back to my apartment, i was mugged, beaten up and stolen from. I didn't care, it was supposed to be my last night anyway.
Back at my house i swallowed every pill i could find, excluding laxatives. Soon i could feel the final act unravel, an agonizing pain starting to form in my head, my heart racing. I collapsed to the floor, convulsing. My thoughts were gone. I was beyond excited, waiting for the peace i was about to experience.
Nothing happened. I have no idea, were the atheists right all along? Or is it a sin i just commited, leaving my soul out of heaven? I stopped moving, my body getting colder by a minute.
Is that what death really is? Am i gonna be concious forever, spending milleniums on my apartment floor?
The answer soon came, it said "meow".I forgot about my cat, who was now looking at me and meowing continously. I felt so bad. What's he gonna do now? Starve to death, all because of me?
Well, i was wrong.After a few days he would come back, a different look in his eyes. He was hungry. The last meal i could offer to my cat, was myself.
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LAST MEAL FOR MY CAT | oneshot
Short StoryAbout a sad guy who gave himself to his Cat (litteraly) I wrote that for english class, and for my 1st improvised story in english, i think its really good.