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Posts tagged ‘suicide’

The Last Goodbye

You don’t know the impact you have on this world until you are gone and by then, it’s too late.

***

This morning you woke up dead. You made your way, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, heading to the washroom to get ready for your day. Your sister is in the bathroom doing her makeup like she always is when you get there, but today each time she tries the tears make tracks down her cheeks, makeup smearing everywhere.

You finish getting ready and head downstairs for breakfast. Your mother sits there, her hands in her head. Your favourite food sitting there untouched and cold. Your father is there too. The air is strained. You can feel the tension between them. Each blaming the other without saying as much. You wolf down your breakfast and head out the door.

You arrive early for work, as usual and prepare for the coming day. You set out your to do list, check your emails and make sure everything is ready for when your boss comes in. Everything in its place. Everything perfect. Everything that needs to be dealt with, itemized, prioritized.

You head down the hall and make yourself a tea and settle in. Your day always begins before everyone else’s and ends long after everyone is gone home to be with their families. This is all you have. This is all you’ve ever had and you throw yourself into your work. You’re extraordinary. Irreplaceable. But you’ve never seen yourself in that light. All you see are the mistakes. The imperfections. Never good enough. After all, there’s always room for improvement. You believe that, but you’ve always been harder on yourself than anyone ever could be. You’re just a failure in your eyes. Just another assistant. Just a worthless pinprick in a world full of people who are far superior to you in every way. Your time, your opinion, none of it matters. But you still try, try so hard because you can’t stand being anything less than perfect. You’re so afraid to make a mistake. So afraid to admit you’re wrong. You’ve created this idea of how your life should go. A timeline and you haven’t reached a single milestone. What you don’t see is all the things you’ve accomplished, all the things you are.

But you woke up dead. No one can see you. No one knows you’re there. 8 AM rolls around and your coworkers exchange a look. You’re always here. They whisper and wonder. Could you be sick? Your boss arrives, but thinks nothing of your absence. Maybe you just stepped away for a moment. He’s not worried. He trusts you and knows you are responsible. That if anything happened, you would’ve told him, like you had always done. Even when you’re sick, he finds you sitting there, ready to take on work. Even if you’re dying inside, you will never let your facade crack. He will never see your weaknesses. To him and to everyone, you can’t be anything less than a polished professional. To show otherwise would be unthinkable.

By 9 o’clock, there is talk around the office. Surely someone must know where you are. Someone must’ve seen you. They talk to your work best friend, but she hasn’t seen you since she dropped you off at home on Friday night and she hasn’t received a message from you since Saturday afternoon. People are starting to worry about you. She sends you a message and waits, but nothing.

They knew you as the girl with the easy smile and upbeat attitude. You always had a kind word for everyone and you tried your best to make everyone feel welcome. You were shy and quiet, but that didn’t stop you from becoming involved. Your laugh was infectious. You kept to yourself mostly, but you had a reputation. Everyone who knew you knew one thing. You were reliable. They could trust you to keep your word. Always.

But no one knew that deep down inside, you hated yourself. That nothing was going right for you. You didn’t want to go home at night. The fights were getting worse. The screaming, the crying. Doors slamming, plates smashing. You tried to tune it out. Closing the door, plugging in. But no matter how you tried, locking yourself in your room was never the answer. You felt like a prisoner within your own home.

Left to your thoughts, you began contemplating ending it all that after a while, it became the norm to dwell on these thoughts. You would muse to yourself as you entertained the thought. You just couldn’t keep this up anymore. You just weren’t strong enough to keep fighting. You stopped feeling a long time ago. Everything was cold and numb now. Sometimes you would hurt yourself just to make yourself feel something. Everyday was just about going through the motions. Anxiety and paranoia consumed your life. Over and over, you kept telling yourself that no one could ever love someone like you. That you would never amount to anything no matter how hard you tried. This sad existence was all you had.

You were just tired of trying. You’d come home from work feeling tired and you would go to work tired. An exhaustion that wasn’t just physical, but reached into the depths of your soul. Your body had just given up. You couldn’t keep going on like this for much longer. How could you when you couldn’t even make a difference? You were just a drop of water in an endless sea.

Sleep didn’t come easily to you anymore, subsisting on 4-5 hours of sleep each night. Stressing about every little thing. Your to do list was endless. There was always going to be work to be done. You’d never be done, never have the satisfaction of accomplishment. Each time you finished something, there was always something to take its place. You could never just enjoy celebrating the small victories. There was always something to be done. And soon, you found that crying was the only way you could get any sleep at all. You’d just tucker yourself out each night, waking up with reddened eyes. Nothing a little makeup couldn’t fix. And soon, it didn’t matter anymore. You stopped taking care of yourself. What was the point? Who were you dressing up so pretty to impress? No one would care to look your way anyways.

But still, something drove you to keep concealing it. Every morning, you put on a smile and you go out into the world to what you did best. Pretending that everything was okay. You try so hard at your job, but for what? Why did it matter so much to you? Nothing you did ever made a difference.

It’s 10 AM and the call finally comes. You stand at his door, about to drop off your latest report and you just watch as your boss’ face collapse. He stops, unable to react, to feel.

How?

How could something like this happen?

To you. Someone who felt so replaceable, you don’t understand. There would be others like you. Others who could do your job so much better than you. But there aren’t. There aren’t people out there who can learn on the job as fast as you did. There aren’t people out there who are as committed as you to your job. People out there aren’t as meticulous as you were.

You called yourself crazy. Psycho even. The way you wanted things just so. You were organized beyond organized. Your systems had systems. And you always made things more complicated than they ever had to be. But they worked for you and no one else could see or understand. You found joy in this, even if you didn’t see it. Everything had its place. Everything had a purpose.

You went for a walk and you never came home that night. They found your body floating in the river, miles away from the place you called home. You just wanted the numbness to go away. You wanted to feel something. Anything.

The water looked so beautiful. So calm, reflecting the colours of the sunset. Sunset had always been your favourite time. The way the colours intermingled gave you a sense of calm in a life that you felt none. Nature had a way of making you feel when nothing else could. It made you want to return to it, become a part of it. That’s all you could think of when you plunged into the cold water.

For a moment, you felt alive. Truly alive. Blackness and burning. Peace. Then nothing.

It seemed so long ago you were happy. Truly happy. You had disappeared inside yourself. You didn’t want anything to do with people anymore. Each day came and went and you became more and more alone because inside you were safe. You could continue to live in the utopia you had in your memories. You could go back to a time when you could still feel emotions. You lost touch with the world around you, but that didn’t matter because you found solace in your solitude.

Once in a while the real you would slip out. You would feel, express anger, sadness, disappointment, jealousy, but you would always apologize for it. It wasn’t proper to show people how you truly felt. You always had to pretend. To be courteous, even to those you hated with a burning passion. While there weren’t many of those in your life, the hatred made you feel more alive than anything. So you sought it out. You would put yourself into situations that would hurt you. That would make you feel those toxic emotions because feeling those was better than feeling nothing at all.

At your funeral you see faces you never expected, paying their respects. Tears, real, actual tears being shed for you. You never knew that so many people cared. Or perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps they were only showing up to be seen. To pretend to show the world they cared, when they really (rightfully), didn’t give a shit about you. You find it hard to believe that anyone would’ve gathered here today for you.

The only ones you truly know about are the ones who you call your closest friends and family. You study the faces of your friends and family twisted in anguish and you wish you could stop their pain. These were the people you loved the most. The people you would’ve done anything for. The people you would’ve protected with your dying breath. And yet, they sit here today, doing the only thing they can. To gaze upon your lifeless body and ask themselves why. To ask themselves what they could’ve done to help you. But there’s no answer. The only one who would’ve known is you and they can’t reach you anymore. You never knew that these were truly people you could’ve gone to. To talk to. But it’s too late. Your choice brought you to where you are today.

Seeing their pain, you wish you could take it all back. But it’s too late.

***

*inspired by a (fictional) story I read about someone who committed suicide and saw the impact they actually made on those around them and combined it with a prompt I had written on years ago (prompt: you’re attending your own funeral). If you are experiencing feelings or thoughts of suicide, please reach out. There’s always someone who cares about you. Or please call your local suicide crisis line. There’s always help out there if you need it. And always, I’m here to listen if you need. You are loved. Do not forget that.

Should I go Today

I’m tired.  Just tired.  Of everything.  Of everyone.  What’s the point anymore?  I work so hard, but for what?  Why?  I kill myself everyday to get a job, to be the top of my class, to be someone that my parents can be proud of.  Why?  What’s the point?  Why do we have to create a purpose in life?  Why can’t we just survive and take each day as it comes?  Why do we put so much emphasis on success, ambition?  I look back and I wonder if it’s worth it.

I’ve accomplished so much, but feel like I’m worthless.  Nothing I do is good enough.  I’m not good enough for anyone.  I don’t deserve to be happy.  I’m just a burden on everyone around and that everything anyone says is a lie.  I’ve lost all trust in people and maybe it’s due to the profession I’ve chosen to go into, but all my life, people have proven they don’t deserve my trust.  People became my friends not because they liked me for who I was, but for what I could do for them.  Sure, I’m not the smartest person by any stretch of the imagination, but I do pretty well for myself.  And because of that I never knew if people were only here to use me or actually wanted to be my friend.  I’ve seen so many friends over the years drift out my life because our friendship was one of convenience.  I could help them academically and that was all I was good for.  I’m not saying every friend I ever made was like that, for I do have some friends in my life who I can see are genuinely there for more than just what I can do to help them succeed.  And I don’t appreciate all those in my life who are there who are there just to see me fail.  I’m not perfect.  No one is, so stop putting me on that pedestal because I will fall.  Stop watching me as the ideal of perfection and then laughing at me, talking behind back when I fail.  I may not make as many mistakes because I’m meticulous.  I put so much time and effort into maintaining this facade.  Time and effort you never see, so you assume it comes naturally.  I’m not naturally intelligent.  It’s the habits I’ve developed over the years.  I’ve learned how to maximize the way I retain and learn things.  I make it look easy, but it’s not easy.  It never has been and never will be.  And while you all hate me when I say I only got a 90%, I honestly mean it.  I beat myself up, repeating to myself how stupid I am because I couldn’t remember the information that could have gotten me that 10% because I did know it and I know I should’ve done better.  Anything you can say to me, I have thought it a hundred times and thought up worse things.  So, yeah, I am insecure when you say these things to me because I already know I’m not perfect, but when you decide you’re going highlight it, make fun of me for it, and tell everyone so that they know how futile all my attempts at perfection are, I’m hurt by it.  I brush it off because people have told me I’m too sensitive, too emotional, I cry too much.  Even strong people cry.  We spend so much time pretending everything is ok.  We hold everything inside so that our facade doesn’t crack and show who we truly are inside.  We’re a mess, just like you, but we hide it, but sometimes when something incredibly stressful happens like a break up, we can’t hold it back anymore.  Like a dam, the pressure is to great to hold back.

I say so much, but ultimately, the words fail me.  I don’t have the eloquence I normally do.  If I were to die today, there would be no note.  I would just do it.  I would leave the world wondering why I did what I did.  I can see some people in my life clearly.  My dad.  Calling me an idiot for throwing my life away.  My classmate. “He is not worth dying for.  You would have gotten over him.”  If you have ever heard the song “The End of the World,” you’d understand how I’m feeling right now.  Because it is the end of my world.  He was and still is my world.  When I thought about break ups, I always thought I’d break up with someone because I stopped loving them.  I still love him.  And I can’t bear to let him go.  But in my heart I can’t help but think that its something I’ve done.  I am crazy; I’ll admit that much.  Maybe something I had done was the last straw for him and he says it’s not me, but a part of me says, yes it is.  And a part of me, a tiny part of me says that he’s not as good of a person as he appears to be.  He said he would never cheat on me, that he believes that communication and trust are the most important things in the relationship, but near the end I felt like he just stopped loving me.  That he started loving someone else.  In the beginning I could just go into his phone and he wouldn’t even react.  Now he asks me what I’m doing and why I’m so nosy and snooping all the time.  He says he’s not hiding anything, but they’re just words.  I don’t believe them anymore.

I don’t fail often.  I want everything to work out.  I want this to work out.  Sure we didn’t technically break up, but I want to come back from this break, I want to prove to those who were happy that we weren’t together anymore that we were meant to be together.  I want us to work because I’ve never met anyone who understands me as much as he does.  We work so well together and the people I’ve talked to thought we were really good together.  I LOVE HIM! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH IT HURTS! I don’t know how else to say it.  I don’t want it to end.  I want to make this work.  But maybe I’ve scared him off.  Maybe I don’t deserve anyone.

I’m just so tired of putting in so much effort and yielding nothing from it.  I’m tired of giving away parts  of me to watch people throw it away.  I’m tired of fighting a battle I don’t care about anymore.  I’m tired of having my heart ripped out and told to just suck it up and get over it.  I just want the pain to go away.  I want to go to sleep and never wake up.  No one really cares about me anyways.  All I’ve ever been is a burden.

Goodbye at Last

He left her there
Crying in the hotel room
To party with his pals

He left her crying
To go drinking
Because he couldn’t deal with her

Even in his embrace
In his kiss goodbye
He didn’t care how hurt and broken her heart had become
He had no love
No affection
No emotion
Left for her

She was a burden
But he had poured in so much time
So much money
That to leave
Was much worse than putting up with her

She lay there while he
Gambled away their future
Drank away their dreams
Becoming more and more hollow
Cold
And distant

When his head cleared
When he realized her words had merit
That behind her tears and vulnerability
Was true love
He didn’t rush up to meet her
He didn’t call or text her

Instead he let her think
He let her wallow in sorrow and self-pity
He let her worry about her insecurities
What was she to him?
Who was she?
Did it matter if she lived or died?

She knew now
That the world would be a better place
That he would be a better man
Without her

No one would miss her
She was sure
She could be replaced

After all
She was just a vessel
To carry a child
What did it matter?
It could be anyone

It had just been fate
Convenience
That threw them together

She loved him
She knew that much
But he didn’t love her
For who could love a nobody
An insecure, bat-shit crazy girl like her?

_______________________

He returned to their room
After drinks and sex
Why couldn’t she be like those easy girls?
Why couldn’t she just give in to his desires?

He glanced at her sleeping form
Shrugging and disappearing into the bathroom

He felt good
And why wouldn’t he?
He hummed to himself
Cleaning up before climbing into bed next to her

But something felt wrong
Something felt strange

He flicked on the lights to find nothing but a bundle of clothes
His heart filled with dread as he called out for her
She didn’t respond
She couldn’t
Not anymore

He found her lying in the bathtub
Still as could be
Pale as the moonlight
Her breath shallow
She lay there drowning in her own blood
Barely aware of his presence

Still
She knew he was there
She knew she had finally proven her courage to do what she had just done
She smiled
One last time
One last breath

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