Before the Rain

One: I Can Play Your Game of Despair with My Eyes Closed

                 

It took me an abnormally long time to figure this out; this concept, this realization.

To be brutally honest, I've prepared myself for my own death on multiple occasions. When I was five I would have these dreams (if I even dreamt at all) that my parents would drive off of an overpass. It would happen the same way every time, and each time I never actually experienced the fatality of the crash. I'd always wake up right as the car touched down.

At the time it was horrifying; I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming and crying.

These dreams were quite consistent, and as a result, my pediatrician referred me to a psychiatrist. Dr. Harmen was her name. She was a nice lady, but she had my diagnosis all wrong.

She reported I was showing signs of abandonment and aggressive resentment towards my parents. I love my parents, there was definitely no resent or any kind of disdain towards them whatsoever. I knew her "diagnosis" was incorrect, but there was no further synopsis providing any other form of mental illness to counter that claim.

So I grew up thinking there was a greater force inside of my mind, a force that was constantly trying to kill my parents.

I convinced myself as though I had no control over this juxtaposing malevolent force, and childishly gave it my middle name: Lukas.

I would talk to Lukas often, as if he were my friend (although he was really more of an acquaintance). This behavior was relatively normal at the time being. It seemed as if I was talking to an imaginary friend, as many children do have. However, as I grew Lukas only became more prevalent and hostile. I relied on him for mental and emotional stability, and as a result, I did not need any friends.

Lukas lasted up until I was around twelve. Once I was in middle school, things got increasingly harder to deal with, as did finding the appropriate time to stress over Lukas. His permanent culmination was generously provided by none other than my twelve and thirteen year old peers. It did not take much for them to realize that I was the shy, weak, and most definitely closeted outcast of the school. And not too long afterwards they forced myself to come to terms with that very pathetic existence.

Nothing ever really physical, but the mental bullying of it all was absolutely dreadful. I had no one to talk to after Lukas was "gone", and I most definitely was not going to burden my parents with another Cal problem.

So I began to take comfort in my own death. Just the amount of control I had with my own worthless life was something of a fascination. And there was something in the way I saw my ending; the ironic aspect of it all.

I would drive my mother's Prius to one of the overpasses in Eugene. Park the car in the middle of the road because why the fuck not? Then I will proceed to jump off of the concrete blockades, except this time, I won't just wake up. I'll be dead, and nothing will matter after that.

I hadn't bothered to set the date, because truthfully, my idiotic mind still had a least a bit of hope left for myself.

As the days increased so did my motivation towards suicide; and it wasn't another week before I had a set date in mind: October 14th, today.

❧

I sat in gym consequentially fervent, starring down at all of the other students from the top of the bleachers. Their choice of sport today seemed to be basketball, or whatever, and thank fuck for that too. I hated standing in the middle of the turf field in the somehow always demeaning sun. The students could see me there, standing in front of them in an extremely vulnerable and self-defiling state. Recognizing that I was definitely not athletic enough to play anything, not that I wanted to, nor I was ever put on any teams. No one really bothered to get to know me, and most people just stare and wonder, Perhaps maybe we should include him, just to be nice. Just so that he knows that his existence is important. No. That never happens, so why should I expect more from them? They've always been the same. I've always been the same. There's nothing to do and nothing to lose, and I've never looked forward to something so much before as my death.