As I wandered my old world and time went by, I had begun to wonder if I'd made the right choice. I thought I would be happy after I died. I thought that maybe I could actually feel joy instead of the constant depression I felt. But so far, that didn't seem to be the case.
There were fleeting moments of happiness- mostly when others like my friends and family were happy. But seconds after the smile entered their face it slowly faded into a dark upset look.
When people asked if they were alright, they would smile, say that they were fine, and continue on politely. All of my friends. All of my family. But there was one other thing that I noticed. The smiles never reached their eyes.
Was it my fault? Was I making them sad? I wanted so badly for them to move on- why wouldn't they? I didn't deserve their attention for so long. I'd been gone for a while, why couldn't they just accept it and forget about me? They didn't deserve to feel bad about this.
I had died. What else could I do to stop being a burden?
YOU ARE READING
After Suicide
Short StoryWaking up after dying is the strangest feeling. I knew I had succeeded, the overdose was enough and no one was home to stop me or to realize what I had done until it was too late. But this morning, I opened my eyes, right before my alarm went off...
