Before the Rain

Nineteen: By These Words I Write I am Leaving You With the Last of Myself

***TRIGGER WARNING*** please do not read if you are sensitive to themes of suicide.

I walk down the dark hallway leading towards my room. The ambiance light yet full of so much aspiration and devotion. I am calm. My hands are not shaking, my chest is no longer pounding, my body is entirely itself. And might I add, to the fullest.

My mind is perhaps the most focused I have ever been; empty, clear of everything else accept for one idea. One permanent culmination.

My room, or rather my parents' room (they happened to own the entire house) was an absolute mess. Everything was strung out and unorganized due to my three hour blue period. I had been desperately trying to force myself into sleep, and after many failed attempts, I am more wide awake then I've ever been.

I figured before I'd leave this condemning world, I'd at least accomplish something. So I organized and cleaned just about everything in my room. This task took about an hour and a half; my parents would arrive home at around eight. I had thirty minutes to finish this. Or rather, myself.

I had also figured I'd write another something, mainly for my parents. I would not address Adam, considering he did nothing but give myself false hope, and further ensure my early departure.

Mother and Father,
I would first like to apologize for all of this mess, I doubt it will be anything but congenial. I'm assuming it could be taken care of easily, perhaps you ought to throw the rug out entirely.

Secondly, I'm sorry that this is all happening again; hopefully you should be much more accustomed to my whole "wanting to die" complex.

Third and final, in which this attempt should be, I love you. This might be difficult to understand, but a lot of things are. For many, it is a second nature to focus on the positives and live through life itself, ignoring all of the bad and letting yourself go. I thought I had the potential to do this for a while, I guess not.

This chapter was almost fiction until I experienced yet another brutal realization. That's alright though, this was something I definitely could not avoid, only temporarily ignore.

The trees are finally empty.

I stapled the note onto the front of my door so whoever should find myself would not be so surprised to find an awful bloody mess.

I exhale a sigh of relief, finally I can leave all of this goddamn pain and rage. As I reach for the gun hidden underneath my lamp stand my heart sinks.

What the fuck? Where is it?

Now in a panicked state, I flip the stand over completely, the floor unoccupied.

"Plan B," I saw to myself, my voice hurried and antipathetic.

I walk through the dark hallways once again, a clear motive in mind, of course.

The steak knife in front of myself is short and thick, however neither dull nor lacking. I sort of smile to myself and take the knife in my left hand, then making my way back towards the yellow room.

❧

The initial cut is not painful.

In an odd and perhaps sadistic way, it felt sort of nice. Actually, it felt fucking fantastic. The even flow of red reminded myself of droplets of rain sliding down a glass window. Smooth curved lines, all ending at the beginning. This is my ending, and what a better way than to feel such a rush of euphoria? For the first time I am getting what I have wanted all along.