Occiditur

I'm So Tired

Samantha did not return until late that night. I waited up for her so that we could talk.

She pulled into the driveway and started up the front steps. I met her at the door and took her by the hand.

"Come sit with me." I invited her.

I pulled her to the top step and sat down. Reluctantly she sat down beside me.

"Just tell me the truth." Samantha begged.

"I did! I wasn't hungry and you told me I had to eat before I could get up. I honestly didn't want to eat." I insisted.

Sam hung her head and shook it. "Why won't you just give up?" She whispered.

"Because I'm telling the truth!" I laughed, annoyed.

Sam stood up and walked into the house, fed up with me. She slammed the door behind her. I leaned my head against the edifice of the stone pillar to my right and watched the night life of Las Angeles fly by me. The busy road just in front of my house was teaming with passing cars.

My mind raced as fast as the cars. I couldn't comprehend why Samantha didn't believe me. I was sick and she thought I was lying. Surely she'd known me long enough to know that I was not one to lie about such things. I was depressed and she wanted me to magically become happy again. It didn't work like that. Why couldn't she see that?

I pushed Samantha from my mind for a minute to focus on my friends. I had thought that the good time we'd had together at the beginning of the week would unite us once again. But it hadn't. Peter and David had fought the very next day over every tiny thing and Peter had refused to come back the rest of the week. Davy, Mike and I had gotten along fine over the week, but today at the party Davy had made Mike mad when he made a joke about Mike's new girl. Davy simply meant whatever he said only as fun, but Mike must have taken it seriously.

The partial burden, lifted by Coco, was now in full force back upon my shoulders. My heart was heavy and my hurt was deep. I wanted to cry but my eyes were arid and empty from nights of balling myself to sleep.

I shook with frustration and in the heat of the moment sought to force pain upon myself. I searched for something to cut myself with but found nothing. Defeated, I sat back down on the top step. And then it happened. I imagined myself in my yard, on the edge of the road. And I saw myself walking onto the road and a car slamming into me. A flood of fear came over me. Was I thinking of suicide? Did having somebody else do the dirty work still count?

Some force within me caused me to stand up weakly. I was feeling the effects from not eating for four days. Even though I had eaten that morning it wasn't enough to make up for the malnourishment. Slowly I shuffled down the steps and into the yard. I kept on walking. As long as I kept my feet moving I wouldn't fall. I didn't even stop when I reached the edge of the road.

No cars were in sight. I fumbled into the south bound lane and collapsed. After a moment to conjure up my strength, I sat up and waited. I waited seconds, minutes, and hours for a car to come and take my life away. I wanted death. I wanted it to slam into me from behind and take me into the next life, somewhere nice and calm to spend an eternity.

I don't particularly remember any thoughts that ran through my head. Only that I was confused. Just a few minutes before the street had seen a car every thirty seconds or so. Now the street was empty. As if someone had stopped the flow because of me. Eventually I stood up and hobbled from the asphalt. I slowly, and finally with tears in my eyes, came back towards the house. When I had almost reached my front steps I heard a noise. A car. I watched it pass by at a speed exceeding the roads limit. If I had staid only a few moments longer they would have surely killed me. A strange mix of relief and regret boiled in the pit of my stomach.