Week Twelve (Jan.12 - Jan. 16) Topic: Suicide
Winners(tied) Paul and Chandani
Intangible
By Chandani
Slowly, I take another deep drag on my cigarette; pulling it so close I nearly burn my lips. I close my eyes and savor the sensations that this legal drug sends through me. As the smoke reaches my lungs, I smile at the familiar asphyxiated feeling and the cool bitter aftertaste.
I can’t seem to take my eyes off of the pills and alcohol that sit beside me on the edge of the bathtub. From where my mind has traveled I watch as I bring the lethal mixture to my mouth. And as I swallow, I can’t help but wonder how the hell I got here.
My mother left us when I was 16 years old. She had been having an affair with my father’s best friend since I was 12 and she finally got pregnant and left me alone with my already mentally unstable father. All for the sake if her wonderful relationship.
It seems reasonable for one to want to die after being abandoned by your own mother, but surprisingly she cannot be held responsible for my decision. She herself did not make me yearn for death. She did not help me brew the deadly concoction that I was bound to ingest. She may have added onto the pain itself, but there are better reasons for suicide.
My father, as much as he may have aided to my own insanity, cannot be blamed either.
The poor man was out of his mind.
My childhood is checkered with his failed suicide attempts, and visits to the psychiatric ward. He was constantly under surveillance. Whether it is a maid, a nurse or his doctors.
I seemed to be the only one who simply ignored him. It was hard to pay attention to a crazed old man, when you are at constant battle with your own thoughts. Its not even like we had anything in common, besides the want to leave this world forever.
I can barely begin to explain to you what being suicidal feels like. It is like taking your
Good reasoning and shoving into a paper shredder. It is like having your heart burned at the stake, and most of all it is wanting everything that you were raised to fear. One day, I simply couldn’t take it. I hated this place. I wanted to leave and never come back. I hated this pain that seemed to be all I could feel. I wanted relief from the pain; I wanted it all to be over.
I had tried so hard to deny it. I tried to tell myself that it would pass, but my meek rationalizations were no match against the insanity. The madness hungrily fed on my hesitation and on my fear. It feasted on my emotions only leaving pain to be felt. I fought terribly against these thoughts. I rebelled against fate for as long as I could. But in the end, the bigger always wins. The hungrier will always get more. And the greed of ones insane mind will surely drive you to the edge.
I smile as the numbness settles in. I wobble back and forth on the edge of the bathtub, and finally fall to the floor. I can hear my pulse thudding in my ears, becoming slower with each beat. For the first time in so long, I can feel no pain. And as my heartbeat comes to a stop,
I feel finally feel release.
Read Chandani's other writing here:
http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/1234...
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SUICIDE IS PAINLESS.
By Paul
The city looks beautiful up here. You can almost smell the innocence in the air as the first glimmers of the approaching morning breaks. A whispering breeze gently swirls and buffets my exposed body as I watch the glittering stars as they glide majestically above my head.
Below, the city is an intricate flashing pattern of light and colour. It’s hard to believe that down there is a huge infrastructure of human behaviour. Right under my nose people are laughing, shouting, crying, making love, and making war. People are screaming their lungs off as they enter the world, while others gurgle and rattle their way to their maker. Me, I just kind of think its all a big joke now.
For the first time in days I feel a calm descend through my aching bones. I've lost everything in the last few months; my job, my family, all the things I’ve taken for granted for so long. All gone in the blind of an eye. They said there was a credit crunch on; I laughed. I made lame, silly excuses when the first mortgage payment when astray. Laughed it off with a large glass of wine when they took the plasma TV, top of the range BMW, my wife’s pride and joy.
Like everyone else we were sinking fast, I just didn't have the mind-set to join the others as they floated for safety, clinging to the lifeboats of sanity and common sense. The blood-sucking sharks that swam around fools like us leeched the money from us. Our credit slowly sunk amid an avalanche of debt and despair.
Down below the first ear-piercing screech of a siren shatters the early morning tranquility as an ambulance hurtles toward its destination. Already I see the streets awash with red and amber strobes of bright lightening.
With the home gone the arguments started, torrents of abuse exploding as we were forced to live like squashed sardines in a run-down flat on a flea bitten council backwater. Squeaky beds, wafer-thin walls and deadly cockroaches were our new friends now. The wife and kids left me to the damp and mildew as I took to cuddling the bottle far more than them.
I can see a small crowd from up here. They're milling around like ants as they study the mess on the pavement in disgust. Maybe I should go down and help out. After all it's not everyday that you see what looks like a spattered pizza covering the pavement. Copper colour liquid oozes like a deadly snake before disappearing down the drain with a gurgle.
With my family gone I was sinking even faster. Drink and loneliness were my family now. Then the job was gone; the boss didn't want a drunk, unshaven loser frightening the clients away. He told me I smelt like shit; said I needed help to escape the spiral of suffering I was inflicting upon my body. Told me no wonder my wife didn't want to sleep with me anymore. I didn't reply that the whiskey never complained when tucked up next to my sweaty book deep in the night.
I don't feel a thing as they scrape my body from the pavement. It’s a long way down there I have to be careful that I don't fall. Mind you I can vouch that suicide is painless. It's living that causes pain.
Read Paul's other writing here:
http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/1157...
Read other stories from this contest here: http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/9341...
