The night breeze softly sends its unnerving caress. Nagging whispers aggravate the storm of my hazy consciousness. As I look down at the pavement, the scorned shadows etched on the ground were staring back, silently nodding heads in approval.
Tonight, the ghosts of those who have gone clam up to this soul losing direction.
Recalling an entanglement in a grim atmosphere, the angry voice saturated in revulsion, faces distorted by anguish. Constant blasts of the fragmented memories assault my mind. Each second of the invading flashback, a searing hot metal plate repeatedly jammed onto my skin; with every moment leaving me reeling, frantically gasping for air. A thousand images of the recollection, muddled and vivid all stitched into some nightmarish kaleidoscope were glass shards pierced in painful precision. The intense wanting to permanently annihilate my insignificant existence, consumed my mind.
Paranoia had obscured my senses and left me immobile, stuck in reliving the horrid past. Still, each heave of my lungs was explicitly imminent, every involuntary twitch of my hands, the sting from the weary eyes that produced an outpour of tears testifies the tangible present. A sinister voice echoed in my skull. An ugly, derailing thought found its way in my head.
Life in its entirety is a void, an empty space filled with nothing but desolate transitory phases.
In a scrambled attempt to combat the growing hesitation to continue living, each smile widened, laughter forced tenfold, and the bubbly demeanor hid the darkness kept within. Perhaps no one can see through the secluded and damaged form of me. Each unbearable day made me contemplate whether I should push through with the grim thought. Losing one irrelevant life in the face of the earth seemed so delightfully alluring; to finally hush an existence of disturbing unrest. The shame grew and abhorrence for humanity reared its familiar face beckoning me to pursue this dull attempt as time passed.
I was ensnared by my own dangerous thoughts. Distress and distraught clenched at me tightly, being lost in pure abyss could have saved me. Relentless insecurity plagued my system as I drowned in my own vicious secrets. With neither refuge nor a sanctuary, living was literally torment and the necessity to end it ruthlessly screams out to me.
The zest for life sucked dry and the remnant, a dried up husk of the virtue it once reflected. It seemed like earthly life and all its filthy associations quickly escalated into lethal resentment and contempt. Utterly alone, abandonment of worldly subsistence was my only consolation; the only friend who openly and willingly welcomes a disfigured, mangled, tortured soul desperate for false redemption and liberation.
Deriving comfort from an extample of an acquaintance who successfully tied the noose around her neck encouraged at the same time scared me. Still, her memory is a wound continuously gaping at me, forever haunting my marred spirit up to this day.
People can experience vulnerability and weakness at some points in their lives. Reasons as to why suicide happens are caused by a range of factors. If the case is not addressed urgently, depression or resentment can ensue. This engulfs the person in a negative outlook, with symptoms most likely and bound to manifest through passive-aggressive behavior, self-inflicted wounds, and drug abuse so to speak. There is a correlation between depression and suicide; most often these two are associated quite frequently. A depressed individual may experience a clouded rational judgment, and possible thoughts on intentionally claiming one’s life to end the “pain” or struggle, or to simply do a favor for others by not being considered as “burdens.”
The deed of taking one’s life is more often than not, purely done out of despair, or the concern over being misunderstood, unheard, or having one’s dignity kept intact. This is arguably a selfish and escapist act, which only leaves devastation in its wake and inhuman pain as consequence to those whom he or she has “left”. Families, friends, as well as the immediate environment of one who had successfully done the act are left shaken, inevitably questioning the entirety of life and its meaning.
True liberation is essentially, to awaken a heightened awareness of the struggle in which we are to partake since conception. Living is to endure sensations of hurt; to readily take and accept these experiences in order to ttransform them into firm personal motivation, a mode to achieve higher principles in life.
