Status: Released weekly
Capricious
The cold, dark final day
Cold was the wind upon my face, hands and neck. Dark was the cloudy sky above, covering the entire city, like a blanket thrown over it. It was mid-day as I approached the bridge. People would stop me if they knew what I was going to do. How could they not? They think they care, but they don’t. I believe they don’t want anything to inconvenience them and their emotion.
I was forced into the hospital, which affected my grades at school, which caused me to fail three classes due to my therapist believing I must be hospitalized. Not I lost my tuition waiver for working for the school paper and I lost my financial aid awarded to me, because of something I couldn’t help.
“It was a choice” they told me, “you were a volunteer patient.” Lies, it was a catch-22. I was told to either admit myself or be forced by the police, so it was never truly a choice.
I’ve started walking across the bridge to the center where I would make the final move.
Live a better life they told me. Death was for the weak and the cowardly. I doubt with what it takes to jump they’d think that.
I’m told this is but a permanent solution to a temporary problem. How can you tell me that when I wake up depressed every day? I find no hope illuminating my future like a bright torch. I see only darkness and hopelessness. I can force myself to feel better and the medication hasn’t helped, and when it does, it’s not like I enjoy popping pills all the time.
I’m so tired, just so tired of living. I just want to go to sleep. Sleep and tune everything off. It’s like watching TV or playing a game; you just get up and turn it off, only for good.
Why can’t anyone be content with me being happy with what I have had? Why can’t people let me choose? Why demonise me for wanting to just sleep for eternity? It’s what I want.
I approached the center as people walked by me. Some smiled and chattered with one another, others simply held themselves close and tried to stay warm. The rain coats, scarves, gloves and hats. The pants and boot or nice oxford shoes.
These people were duped into living a life where they just work their lives away to make someone happy, while they work to make money just so they can survive, with no guarantee it will be fine.
I’m told to pull myself up by my boot straps. They say, “Cindy, you just got to be the change you want!” However, in society, there must always be someone suffering.
I faced the edge and look over the bridge and see the cold, dark water below. A ship passes by, I must be at least 100 feet above the surface.
I quickly stumble to my feet on the ledge and look down. I can hear the echoes of someone calling out, but it’s too late. I take the step and I fall.
The air was cold, and I regretted nothing. My eyes closed as I hear screams and pleads to call 911. But what should be a few seconds felt like hours.
I felt myself going through my whole life once more from childhood where I was abused, when I was sexually molested in middle school by a teacher, when I was bullied in high school, and now it all comes to this point.
I don’t need to open my eyes as I feel one last thing before everything fades to black.
A part of me wanted things to be better. For a life worth living, but no one seemed to care, only to belittle me.
Silence.
I was forced into the hospital, which affected my grades at school, which caused me to fail three classes due to my therapist believing I must be hospitalized. Not I lost my tuition waiver for working for the school paper and I lost my financial aid awarded to me, because of something I couldn’t help.
“It was a choice” they told me, “you were a volunteer patient.” Lies, it was a catch-22. I was told to either admit myself or be forced by the police, so it was never truly a choice.
I’ve started walking across the bridge to the center where I would make the final move.
Live a better life they told me. Death was for the weak and the cowardly. I doubt with what it takes to jump they’d think that.
I’m told this is but a permanent solution to a temporary problem. How can you tell me that when I wake up depressed every day? I find no hope illuminating my future like a bright torch. I see only darkness and hopelessness. I can force myself to feel better and the medication hasn’t helped, and when it does, it’s not like I enjoy popping pills all the time.
I’m so tired, just so tired of living. I just want to go to sleep. Sleep and tune everything off. It’s like watching TV or playing a game; you just get up and turn it off, only for good.
Why can’t anyone be content with me being happy with what I have had? Why can’t people let me choose? Why demonise me for wanting to just sleep for eternity? It’s what I want.
I approached the center as people walked by me. Some smiled and chattered with one another, others simply held themselves close and tried to stay warm. The rain coats, scarves, gloves and hats. The pants and boot or nice oxford shoes.
These people were duped into living a life where they just work their lives away to make someone happy, while they work to make money just so they can survive, with no guarantee it will be fine.
I’m told to pull myself up by my boot straps. They say, “Cindy, you just got to be the change you want!” However, in society, there must always be someone suffering.
I faced the edge and look over the bridge and see the cold, dark water below. A ship passes by, I must be at least 100 feet above the surface.
I quickly stumble to my feet on the ledge and look down. I can hear the echoes of someone calling out, but it’s too late. I take the step and I fall.
The air was cold, and I regretted nothing. My eyes closed as I hear screams and pleads to call 911. But what should be a few seconds felt like hours.
I felt myself going through my whole life once more from childhood where I was abused, when I was sexually molested in middle school by a teacher, when I was bullied in high school, and now it all comes to this point.
I don’t need to open my eyes as I feel one last thing before everything fades to black.
A part of me wanted things to be better. For a life worth living, but no one seemed to care, only to belittle me.
Silence.
♠ ♠ ♠
If you are thinking about harming yourself or attempting suicide, tell someone who can help right away. Call your doctor's office. Call 911 for emergency services. Go to the nearest hospital emergency room. Call the toll-free, 24-hour hotline of the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255) to be connected to a trained counselor at a suicide crisis center nearest you.This story is not a promotion of suicide in the slightest, rather it gives my real life experience to form a story to give insight to people what it may be like to be in the mind of someone who is suicidal.