PAUSE THE BEAT

chapter 1

"On a scale from one to ten, how happy are you?"
A question that my fifthgrade's teacher used to ask every single morning. At that time, my answers used to vary; sometimes they reached the peak if I've got a high grade, and other times not getting the candy I wanted was enough to darken my day.
However things changed as days passed; as the sun dragged me into a future that I did not see coming, my ratings altered.
If someone would evaluate my happines, the criteria would go as: "she's pretty, not beautiful but pretty, quite wealthy, popular, and smart. She'll probably rate as 8 or 9."
But when I am the judge, this is not the case. Happiness isn't a simple word, and it's not likely to find it within a few days. Is it even a real thing in the first place? Can true happiness be saught and found? Is there such thing as true
happiness?
"Of course, of course there is such a thing."
Here we go again. Another pointless arguement with my friend about LIFE.
"How do you know, ha?? Tell me, have you ever found happiness?"
"Chill out. Happiness is, sometimes, found in the little things that make a person smile for no reason beca-"
And she went on forever.
Well it's obvious that people get cheerful sometimes, but is that what you call true happiness? Are those moments what make life brighter? If so, I would never believe in it. It's probably, if it exists (which I barely believe in), something greater than a mere moment you had with a special someone.
You know, nobody really cares about those things untill something dramatic happens. One night I was like, "welcome suicidal thoughts, long time
no see!" And since then, the factory inside my mind has initiated plenty of ideas, but the one that my nerves grasped was, as I thought, the most granted easy way: pills.
Carefully I planned and successfully were the tools found. It wasn't that hard in fact, for I found a full sheet of Granny's diabetes pills in my math book, having left it probably during one of her Elzheimer fits.
To say the truth, depression stole my mind, my soul, and my life, but it couldn't snatch a bit of the love in my heart. It was dinner when I last saw my parents, and I decided to go up.
"Goodnight sweetheart" they said, "goodbye" was my reply and I know they never thought twice about it.

However, feelings should be casted aside when its show time. I did it. I took about 12 pills all at once and laid back immediately waiting for my
beats to pause. I pretended it didn't hurt, I acted as it was nothing, but it was everything and was killing me. I was screaming silence and drowning, and no one saw my struggle. To cease the pain I tried to sleep. I used to like sleeping because then I dreamed about a better life, one in which the world was all mine.
Sometime passed: a couple of seconds, minutes, or maybe hours, I didn't really know for I lost control of senses and so of time.
Agony. Self-destruction. Needles pinching all my body. Why wouldn't sleep take over me? Or... why wouldn't it all end? It was like a boulder thrown on my body, pushing it to the very limit. I tried with all my might not to scream and shout although it was torturing me on the inside.
Time went by and I was still awake. I couldn't realize if I was getting better or just used to the pain. Then silently and all of a sudden my body soothed as I drifted to a jet black world. That's when darkness swallowed me, and my beats paused.