Writing Corner

WARNING!

This page is for my random writings.  The following does not exactly represent how I feel or my personal experiences.  They are just ideas and writings from my imagination.  Please understand that the following may be disturbing to some extent.  If you are rather sensitive to the topics of anger, hate, gore, or depression, then please be warned.  Some of the following writings on this page may offend or even trigger you.

If you do proceed, please enjoy and thank you for reading!


When it becomes too much…

“I want to commit suicide.”

That is what she said in her eyes as she smiled that forgiving smile.  She was a kind soul.  Someone that cared for everyone and never complained.  During the summer activities, she worked endlessly making sure all the relatives had what they needed.  Each one smiling back at her just the same.  Even then, I didn’t know.  The last time I saw her was on a Saturday morning.  She was making pancakes and eggs.  Breathing deep, she looked at her food with a blank stare.  I must have startled her because she jumped a bit when I cleared my throat.  That impassive stare left and in its place went the smile.  After she ate her food and got her things ready, she stopped just at the door way.  It was as if a barrier kept her from going forward.  Like she was fighting her indecisive will to go.  But she went anyway.  Walking slow, then picking up the pace, she left.  I didn’t see her again for another week.

The following Sunday finally came.  She had been missing and all my parents could think about was where she could be.  For she wasn’t a child, so the police had no reason to think she was kidnapped.  It wasn’t until a body was found on the shore of the forest lake.  An old bridge was there.  A bridge she jumped from.  Tied to her ankle was a weight and a plastic bag with a note inside.  Reading it was hard.  Not because of any water damage, barely any water got in.  We all finally knew who she was.  Like wearing a mask, she put on a front to hide how she felt.  The sadness, the anger, the pain, the anxiety, was too much.  It had been building for years.  The hardest part was that we all had a sense of it long before this day.  We simply ignored it, or pretended it wasn’t so.  Perhaps if we didn’t “encourage” her feelings, she would be okay.  After a while, she stopped asking for help.  She put on the mask and let it build inside.

When it becomes too much, the pain stops hurting.  When it becomes too much, the sadness rolls over you.  When it becomes too much, death has no true meaning.  It just ends.  This is what she wanted us to know.  This is what she told me that day in her eyes.  Instead I ignored what she said and accepted the plastered smile.  The smile that hid lies and something greater than I myself couldn’t comprehend.

A Hard Fall

The last words of a person with nothing but regret to look back on…

When I was a child, I always wondered when I would die. It was a feeling of dread to breathe, to see, to live. All around me was a constant reminder of what I could not have. The things I adored and desired, all so in reach, yet so far from my touch. As others daydreamed, I sought out my own demise. Poison? Cutting? Drowning? Hanging? It all seemed so painful, and so I waited.

I waited for time to heal my heart, to stifle my burdens, and give me what I cherished most. But as time continued, it was ever clear that I would never have what I wanted.

Love, friendship, sex, it all eluded me like an intelligent joke that surpasses the mentally inept. I for one could not stand it, could not live like this.

So there, I wallowed in my own grief, my own suffering, my own pity.

The weight was ever so heavy, crushing my sense of self worth, my own preservation. Soon, it was unbearable. But how should I do it? Countless hours contemplating, debating, and nitpicking the process of my own death, with myself no doubt. To be in my head would be to witness the insufferable banter of two morons with a painful yearning to kill.

Perhaps it was just my weak spirit, my lack of will, my lack of patience. But how would you feel if you were kind, honest, trusting, but never given the chance to feel love, acceptance, freedom? What if your human instincts of being within reach of flesh was obstructed my some force that kept others from you? Would you do it? Would you end your pitiful life?

Or would you live alone, regretting every second of every day? Would you accept your fate and live in the tranquility of solitude? It’s easy for others to judge people like me, the morons of the world, the lonely, the losers, the rejected.

For a while I tried, as hard as it was, but in the end, my heavy heart won. So as I tumble down this building, I linger on the moments in my life that will cease. The moments that weighed me down, that trampled my heart, and filled me with despair. They will become nothing, and soon, I too will no longer exist.

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