0. Kismet

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In the dark of night, the weight of a experience presses against Dave's chest. He feels like a part of him has disappeared in that moment of pain, leaving him with a sense of emptiness that becomes more and more overwhelming. Anxiety consumes him, and even though he tried to find solace in the present, Dave still finds himself lost in memories, struggling to reclaim what he lost from himself. A headache that puts an end to his desire to get out of bed or even make the slightest effort to move. A head full of diverse and repetitive thoughts that become constant in his day to day, causing him to be unable to think correctly and losing his mind for the slightest thing that resorts to a small thought. Thoughts. Repetitive thoughts; do it, do it, do it. There's no other way out, or so he thinks as he resides in his bed and the walls look down on him with contempt and rejection. He will never get out of this abyss that drags him down every day, reliving the situation is enough for him and having to heal himself is being a very hard process.

Deafened ears because of an explosion that took away a very important part of him. Not only physically, but also mentally. Thinking about that day just makes him want to vomit and cry all around his room, while he tries to find something to comfort himself in order to satiate this appetite of not being alive anymore. Broken sobs that he let out in tandem as he screamed for help. Now he lied in my bed, staring at his mocking ceiling that looks down on him and reminds him of how worthless he has become in this miserable life. He missed how he used to be a few years ago. He felt lonely and abandoned by society, cut off from everything that once used to make him happy, but now plunges him into misery... in truth, he never used to be lonely, not until a while ago. Social Security took his adoptive son away from him and he was taken to a juvenile facility for his sake. He had previously been accused of neglect because his job required him to be anywhere but at home.

With his head spinning and barely any strength in his limbs, Dave gently gets up from his bed and sits on the end of it. He lowers my gaze only to lean back a little and close his eyes in rejection. He still hasn't gotten used to seeing how his body lacked legs and was left with only stumps. He sighed shakily, reaching for a chair that was on his room to sit in this one and lean his arms against the desk. His hand gently caressed the pages of his diary, this being day forty-seven since what had happened. With insecurity and a trembling hand, he began to write.

'Perseverance. I've tried thousands of things throughout my life. I've fallen down, I've gotten up, I've taken small, soft, gentle steps to get what I longed for.' As he wrote with his pen, he could feel his pulse getting tighter and tighter. 'A ray of light blinded my sight, was this my definite chance to start improving? Finally something that would encourage me to continue on my life's path? With joy and enthusiasm, I smiled at this dear ray of sunshine that blinded my vision. I reached out a hand, trying to cover that illumination between my soft fingers to see more clearly where I was walking. To my surprise, as I covered the light and looked down at my feet, I fell into a ravine and all the illumination stayed above. Despair. No matter how much I persevere in my life, I will always fall into the same hole over and over again.' "Stupid me." - He thought as his voice echoed in his mind overwhelmingly. ''I always convince myself that things will get better, that I will be able to overcome all that torments my cloudiest days. But no matter what, I will always be dazed by those thoughts, even knowing that in reality none of what I wish for will ever be true.''

His vision began to get blurrier and blurrier. He writted a period to end, finishing the whole text and venting everything that was bogging him down this day. This journal grabbed all of his daily thoughts. He had no one close to him, what else could he do? He didn't want to sink into his deepest thoughts either. The more time passed, the more his anxiety increased. Gently but agitated, he climbed on top of his wheelchair and headed for the bathroom, opening a drawer containing his tranquilizer pills. He swallowed one, which he struggled to swallow. It's a burden for him to live with a pill every day, and that he has to depend on them to be able to live a minimally stable life.

His throat remained dry as he coughed from the displeasure of swallowing a pill, mentally cursing all around him and teary-eyed. Sighing again, he returned to his room. He hasn't eaten anything all day, but his hunger wasn't very existent at the moment either. He had no choice but to listen to his own body, lying back down on his bed without any willpower to carry on with the day.

And again, it was just the thoughts, the mocking ceiling and Dave. With his head spinning and wanting to do nothing, he slowly closed his eyes, drifting into a dreamlike state to avoid the rest of the world and his surroundings.

...

Day forty-eight.

''I feel like I can't go on anymore. Every day becomes a heavy burden, a weight that pulls me into the void of pain and despair. I find the stress of continuing to be unsustainable, and the thought of ending it all has become the only way out. My limbs tremble from the pain and from trying to find that comfort I long for, as I can't remember the last time I was really happy, it's been years since that. I feel weak, and useless, I've let you down, mom. I know you've always been my rock, my unconditional support, but right now I'm not as strong as you thought I was. I ask your forgiveness for not being able to be who you expected me to be, for not being able to move forward as you do. And despite the fact that I doubt you'll ever read this due to our loss of connection, I want you to know that I really tried.''

Finished text, period at the end of the paragraph. Good night and goodbye...

...

And in what seemed like the blink of an eye, I was admitted to a mental hospital after an attempt to end it all.

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