Suicide

Pain

Once, during my short beautiful life, I wrote an essay about Hell for no reason at all.

I remember each and every word my hands wrote. I mentioned eternal pain, frustration and agony. I wrote about sadness, gloom and hurt. It was all my imagination. Now, I know that it was all true.

The pain I'm feeling is beyond words. The only way to understand it is to imagine.

Imagine, a dark stone room. Everything empty and cold. And all you can do is sit there and stare at the walls because what's outside is even worse.

Imagine, having no air to breathe when you want to inhale. The pain in your lungs, never ceasing.

Imagine, never being able to drink again. Being so thirsty that your throat seems to be on fire.

Imagine, a headache that only worsens. One that makes your head burst with pain but nothing ends it.

Imagine, feeling as if you're burning. The fire in your veins. Your insides, bursting into flames.

Imagine, the most intense form of regret. One that claws on your insides, cutting you and causing you to bleed till all the rivers flow red.

Imagine, an urge to talk to someone but having no one to talk to. The loneliness causing a bubble in your chest that never dissipates.

Imagine, wanting to hear your heartbeat again but never hearing the rhythm, no matter how hard you press your ear to your wrist.

Imagine, missing the ones you love but never being able to see their faces or hear their voices.

Imagine, crying so much that your eyes hurt, even when you blink. Your cheeks so wet that nothing can dry them.

Imagine, hurting yourself but not feeling anything. But there's a pain on the inside... and it only grows.

Imagine, wanting to kill yourself and wanting to live at the same time... but you have no choice.

There's only one choice. You only choose once. My choice was wrong...

All those I've described... What I'm actually feeling is a million times worse. And there's nothing I can do to change it...