Grand Finale || r.r. + b.u.

nine

When I first started thinking about death, I was very young.  I always knew that people died and that was just a way of life, it just wasn't a lesson that needed to be learned.  I would spend hours of my nights thinking about death and the afterlife and so many other things in between and I decided one thing is for sure about myself.  I want to be in control of my own death.

I don't necessarily mean that when I die I want it to be by suicide, I just mean that I want to know when or at the very least how I'm going to die.  I want to have everything that would be left unsaid said instead of leaving it to be forgotten at the hands of a death I can't control.  People die of sickness or old age or bitter tragedies that could only come out of a shitty horror flick, everyone dies and everyone expects their death to be oh so horrible.  I don't want my death to be sad or terrible or gory, I just want to be in control of it all.  I hate leaving things unsaid and forgotten, and I know that everyone around me is worth enough that they should know all of the things I wish I could tell them before I died.

Funerals are another thing that terrify me.  Due to the fact that I'd be dead, I'd have absolutely no control over my funeral and how I'm portrayed by the people that are still alive and well.  I don't want a super sad funeral, and I'm not sure if I would want a funeral at all.  I think that if I've said all I have to say that there shouldn't be anything else to it, I died and that's all that matters. 

I know that there are people that care about me though.

All i can think about is that awful feeling in your chest when you're desperately trying to convince yourself everything's fine even though every fiber of your being disagrees with you? That's exactly what I'm feeling right now.  As common as the feeling may be, it'll never be something I enjoy.  The little knot in my chest grows tighter and tighter as I stare at my reflection.  The flowers cover my hair almost completely, peeking onto my face and covering my left eye, you can see the dark circle under my one visible eye looking darker than ink, and my lips are chapped and cracked just enough to draw blood.   I look like a dead man, but I might as well be one at this very moment in my life.

I left my windows open last night, expecting the air from outside to calm me down when it just did the exact opposite.  I was up all night, to no surprise, making my best efforts to do something other than worrying.  I always tell myself to write and create or so anything other than wallow in my own self doubt.  I wrote just a little, but i always started to feel dizzy and sick.

I decided that all I really want is control.

I look at the mess on my floor of blood, dirty clothes, and flowers.  The smell of a candle in the hallway is the only thing that's remotely comforting about all of this.  I've never been one to seriously think about suicide, and if I were to I sure as hell wouldn't waste my time writing a note.  I gather up my thoughts once more and take a look at my hands, then down to my legs and my feet.

This is the last time in my nearly eighteen years of living that I'll ever be here, standing on this hardwood floor.

I look up at the mirror and bring my hands to my face, curing at the pain and energy that it takes just to move, and I tug at the flowers at my skin.  Pain shoots through my body, but it's nothing that I'm not used to at this point.  I keep tugging and ripping at the flowers, watching as more just keep growing.  My arms are already scratched up from this routine, but I ignore the pain tugging that the newer flowers on my arms.  I wait for my vision to get blurry, but all i see if blood pooling on my bathroom floor.

I keep pulling at the flowers and blurred vision greets me and everything fades to black.  The last thing I remember was the feeling as I crashed to the floor.  Blood splashed on my face as I hit the hard wood, i hear cracking and the loud crash.

This time, I don't wake up.

———

The note:

Dear Brendon,
I know that you're probably going to be the person that finds this since you have a habit of coming to my house whenever I don't answer the phone.  If you find me unconscious on my bathroom floor don't worry, I'm just testing a theory.  If I do end up dead I don't want you to be sad, I've spent a lot of time thinking about this moment when everything would finally fall apart.  I want you to know that I love you so much and as stupid as it may seem I really did see us having a future together even though we're just a couple of seniors in high school.
The flowers are something that are apart of me and I just wanted them to go away.  I don't want you to be sad or afraid.

With love, Ryan.