Wandering Fireflies

Chapter 30: 05/04/18

Song: 1800-273-8255 by Logic ft Alessia Cara and Khalid

Bad things are supposed to happen on rainy days.

But what does the rain have to do with bad things happening? What's so bad about rain?

Sometimes, bad things happen on perfectly normal, happy, sunshiny days. If you ask me, the happy looking ones are the ones you should watch out for.

Mom and dad were at a Church charity event that they wanted me nowhere near. Jason was at football practice, Beth at her friend's. Nobody even noticed that I never went to school today.

Why would they? Nothing I did ever mattered.

I was left all alone. I was alone growing up, alone now and I'll be alone the day I die.Because nobody wanted me, nobody cared about me.

So who would care if I died?

It's that feeling of emptiness, like there was nothing left. Nothing left in your life to live for.

I used to think that one day, it would get better. That somewhere, at some point in the future I would be able to be someone that would bring happiness to other people. Because if I can't be happy in life then I should at least spend my life making others happy.

But now that I think about it, I had no future. I was a failure. I was failing half of my courses at school, I failed as a friend, as a son, as a brother and as a boyfriend. I even failed at being a boy. I feel so stupid for thinking that I would ever pass as one.

So why would the future be any different? I was nothing, I was worthless. Why would anyone want me?

I wasn't special. Heck, I wasn't even likeable. I was everyone's back up plan. The kind of person that you'd only talk to if you had no one left.

I don't blame them, why would they choose me?

There are thousands of words in the English language yet I couldn't even find one that came close to describing this feeling. It was indescribable.

This feeling was being unable to think, to breathe, to function anymore. Like letting go of the wheel and letting your thoughts take over, control you.

If life was a roller coaster with its ups and downs, this feeling was a roller coaster that refused to go up.

It was like being trapped in a hole where the ground wouldn't stop caving in. And just when you think that you've hit rock bottom, when you're at the lowest point, the ground once again caves and you're falling deeper down.

If this feeling was a person, they'd constantly be following you. Sometimes, you wouldn't notice them, like when you're distracted. But at the end of the day, they'll always be there. Mocking you, with their razor-sharp words and sucking the life right out of you. They'd take their huge, thick hands and wrap them around your throat, suffocating you until you're forced to breathe in their toxic acid words like polluted air.

But then you realize something: they speak the truth.

And what is the truth about me?

I don't know.

Who am I? Nobody, that's who. I couldn't stand the thought of people hating me. Why else do you think I stay away from people? It's because I know I'll say or do something that would make them hate me. So why bother talking to them?

Yet this time, I didn't even do anything and everybody still hates me. Why? Because I'm me.

If I was anyone else, I'd have at least some friends and maybe even my parents wouldn't hate me so much.

But that's not reality. The reality is that this is who I am. And in that case, I don't even blame them for hating me.

Because they have every reason to hate me. I hate me.

I deserved this, every single awful thing that has happened to me happened for a reason: to make me suffer. Because that's what I deserved. I deserved to be miserable, I didn't deserve to be happy. I didn't deserve any friends or family that loved me.

Nobody could ever love me.

Because I was disgusting. I had an awful personality and my body...I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror without feeling sick. It was revolting. It was just messed up.

Panic grew inside of me at just the thought that my body could be becoming more feminine. And yet, I couldn't even like girls like a real boy.

And guess what? My arms were just as repulsive as the rest of me, full of jagged cuts that I got away with hiding because it was cold enough to wear long-sleeved shirts all year round.

Or maybe no one wanted to see.

This world is better without me. They say that if you're not beautiful on the outside, you're beautiful on the inside and that's what counts. But not me. Inside, I was just as disgusting as I was on the outside. Because if people really judge others by who they are on the inside, then I have to have a crappy personality because even that isn't enough to keep people with me.

I drive everyone away. Is it to much too ask for to have at least one person in my life that even slightly cared about me? Because as much as I didn't have enough energy for excessive social interaction, I still couldn't bear the thought of being alone.

Loneliness was black, like having nothing but darkness surround you, with no light to give you some hope that you're not an accident or a piece of trash.

Or a shitty person. Because I'm nothing but a mistake.

This is what I deserve, being alone, having no one. Because everyone hates me. I'm not important. Never have been, never will be.

The worst part was that being with Vance made me feel as if there was actually someone out there who wanted me.

Guess I was wrong.

This feeling feels like you're constantly screaming yet no one can hear you. Or worse, they chose not to listen.

It's like having your head under water, where you're drowning, water filling your lungs in the place of air with every breath you take. And after flailing for so long to no avail, you realize that there's no point. You'll never get out of those dark, mucky waters.

That there's no light in this darkness and there never will be.

I don't know at what exact moment the thought of suicide came to me. Maybe it was there for a while now, but at some point, I made up my mind. I looked above to where the rope lay hanging from my ceiling fan.

Would it be painful? I hoped so, I deserved to suffer and wither in pain.

With one last look around my room, a weak smile spread across my face, silent tears falling from my eyes. I understand why people hate me so much. I feel the same way about myself.

And sometimes, you feel the most when you can no longer feel anything at all.

On Friday, May 4th, 2018, I, Zaavan Fleetwood took my own life.