ignite // phan

gon•er

ˈɡɒnə/
noun (informal)
a person or thing that is doomed or cannot be saved

Trigger warning: attempted suicide

Dan was left standing, shocked, in the doorway of his own kitchen.

Phil had just left. Without another word, none of his usual goodbyes. Maybe he had been a bit harsh, Dan thought, but he couldn't help it.

"For fucksake Dan, you can't do anything right" a voice screamed. He looked around. There was no one there.

The voices were back.

"People like you don't belong on earth, you don't deserve to be alive" they screamed at him in a voice that was unnervingly similar to his own.

"Just do us all a favour, kill yourself!"
And as usual, Dan listened to the voices.

It took him barely a minute to gather up a scrap of paper and pen, what to write was the hard part.

He procrastinated what message he wanted to leave behind as he sat on the barren floor of his lounge room.

Would anyone even come by his house if he were gone? Would they even notice or care?

Phil seemed to be the only person in the world right now that Dan interacted with, albeit an unsteady beginning of a friendship, and it seemed that even he was dismissive of Dan at present.

Dan sighed as he scribbled a simple note, only three words.

I'm sorry, goodbye.

Was this to become a suicide note? Dan wasn't sure.

It was a pretty crappy one at that, with no meaning or originality, the words could hardly be read through Dan's messy left handed writing. But, then again, what was the point? Who would even read it?

"Stop wasting time, you've already wasted enough space on this earth. No need to waste anything else." Dan tapped the pen against the scarp of paper beneath it, as if it would help him think of the words to write, but this happening was ineffable to him. Dan lacked the motivation to express his struggle, he wanted it to be over.

"Hurry up, you'll die of old age before you get to kill yourself." Dan heavily sighed before gathering his keys and phone and exiting his apartment for hopefully the last time.

He drove to the outskirts of town, where few homes stood atop of grassed hills. It felt like years passed as he approached a narrow road that lead up to a higher peak in area.

He arrived at the top soon after, his legs carrying him up from where he had to ditch his car. Though Dan struggled to reach the apex of the so called mountain, he couldn't care less for his clear lack of physical strength. He was going to die anyway, so what's the point?

He sat on among the grass, beneath the last tree standing closest to him. Reaching for his phone, he decided to make one final call; a goodbye, to say the least. He dialling one of the few phone numbers in his contacts: his mothers.

The phone rang three times before the call was declined on his mothers part. Dan already knew she wouldn't pick up, but that didn't stop him from holding on to the small about of hope he had found.

That's the flaw with humans, they claim they've lost hope but will still continue to grasp onto any signs of it they can find. Hope is like a drug, but you see it's not only addictive. People will say they don't have it but will be entranced at the sight of it. Hope is a false sense of security that people use to comfort themselves. Hope is both evil and good, hope is egregious and most importantly dangerous in the wrong hands.

Dan dropped his phone along with his other belongings in the spot beside him. He wasn't going to need them anymore. The last thing to leave his pockets was a small silver cylinder, the one he had grow familiar with over his years suffering with self harm. It glistened in the light of the moon and reflected distorted images of stars. It looked more dangerous then ever.

"Why not burn yourself with the lighter? For old times sake." Dan complied with the voice, again he held the contraption of pain against his inner forearm. He placed the heart of the flame against the scarred skin until he felt fresh burns forming.

There was no time for healing, there was no source of first aid, it was Dan by himself with a scalded arm and menacing thoughts. Dan was alone, just like he has always been.

If only Dan was straight, he wouldn't be like this, everything wouldn't have gotten this bad and he'd be living his life just like every other 18 year old.

He'd left his note back in the apartment, it had less chance of getting lost there and it also prevented Dan from losing more time. Thinking back now while sitting under the casted shadow from above, engulfed in the darkness around him, Dan knew he could have done better. He could have explained himself, told his story and give reasoning to his actions. He could've wrote something poetic, anything better than 'I'm sorry, goodbye'. It was hardly legible anyway, the words had smeared under the touch of his hand and bled down the page due to his tears that had cascaded down his face, to fast for him to stop. Again he knew no one would read it or even care, but he still wanted to go out with some kind of meaning or with something that would symbolise him.

He rose from his current spot and neared the edge of the cliff. The world below him was green and littered with thriving vegetation. Dan had always like the way how plants and landscapes didn't deceive you. If the plants looked dead, they were dead. If they looked alive, then they were alive. He had always wished people were like that too, but that's not how they worked.

He found a new seat at the verge of the cliff, he allowed his legs to dangle and sway in the wind. He was positioned daring close to end of the unstable ledge, a strong gust of wind could easily send him falling down the cliffs face.

"One last movement Dan, one final push closer to death and it will be all over. You will no longer be able to burden the world or create unnecessary chaos with your insignificant life. Come on Dan, you're already dead anyway."

Dan was hesitant to follow, did he want to die? Or was the decision made by the voices rather then himself? It was probably too late anyway. Like the one of the voices had said, he was already dead anyway.

He took one final glance at the sky, observing the way the stars twisted through the galaxy, how the moon hid behind the safety of grey clouds and the way the duskiness attempted to illuminate the space underneath it. Dan had never understood space, he didn't want too. It was one of those things his parent couldn't ruin, like Santa or the Easter Bunny. It was also real, but that's irrelevant. But his lack of knowledge towards space didn't imply he wasn't interested in it. It was practically the opposite.

But that didn't matter anymore, because he wouldn't get to see it again. With one last glance up, he caught the sight of a shooting star but there was no need to make a wish. He stood up looking over the space he would soon inhabit, it all appeared like a garden that belonged in a wonderland.

And Dan was ready to stop and smell the roses.

"I'm sorry, goodbye" as his final words left his lips, he proceeded to step forward into the gloomy night.