It's Over

A monologue inspired by personal emotion. Purely fiction, but is unfortunately possible.

I finally did it. It's over. I've consumed the medication and I can both feel and see darkness closing in. The pain is numbing.. It's working. For all those months I wanted it to be over, and I couldn't find any other way to numb the pain. All of the fear, anxiety and hardship now come to a close as the sentience exits my body; the energy of life escaping like a breach in my Meridian. The last portion of my soul follow in the path of mass-exodus from the now lifeless shell that was my body. In a final sharp pain I feel my life come to an end in a manner both abrupt and glorious.

It would have been an accomplishment. To end such a long period of pain and difficulty with one simple execution of movement, the consumption of the pills. Despite other ways being considered, I chose this fashion in lieu of a mess. I had not desired to dispatch myself with a firearm as it would create nothing more than what I was, which was a mess that some unfortunate and reluctant soul had to deal with. I did not want to expire by the use of chemical material due to the potential disfigurement of my body; I did not want to leave even one lesion. The medication was clean, but it wasn't exactly quick. My senses began to experience difficulty as the effect had drawn in and the slightest bit of regret crossed my mind as the cycle of biological shutdown had initialized within my body. I lost the feeling of regret hastily but not by choice, as the effects of the medication caused my mind to descend into nothing but pain and madness. I couldn't feel any emotion. I couldn't speak. I couldn't hear and could barely see. All I could do was think. The only thought, a single word, repeating over and over. "Help".

Of course it was rather foolish of me to wish for assistance so late into my process of self termination as I was far too gone for any medical attention, no matter how advanced or immediate, to save me. But maybe it didn't go unheard.

The scene became apparent in front of me. My own pale body laying on the floor as you came in. I had no idea you would be here. You hadn't spoken to me in months. You were always focused on him. But now, in this moment of your reconciliation, you find my body. Even now I can feel the pain of having to watch you cry. Watching you weep. You shake my body back and forth, begging and pleading for me to wake up as my eyes remain open in an empty stare towards the ceiling. I regret everything I've done. I want to tell you that I'm okay. I want to tell you it wasn't your fault. With each bawl of emotion you dispatch my want becomes more. I want to touch you. To feel you. Just to tell you I regret everything. I want to return. I want to attend my classes. I want to see my friends. I want to do my best in academics. I want to tell my father and mother that I love them. I want to hug you.

Several days have gone by. You haven't left. You have hardly even moved from your original position and haven't eaten anything nor have you slept. Your eyes are swollen and sore from all the tears. You have cried so much your body is dehydrated and each occasional sob is raspy and accompanied by a cough. I want to yell at you to eat something; anything. I want to scream at you to move on. I want you to live happily, but I now feel as if I've robbed you from any joy. I can't believe what I've done. This entire idea was a mistake. If only I had waited. If only.

Now I'm gone.. Never to talk to you again. I've left you in this state of self hatred and severe dismay. I don't want you to live like this. I swipe at your hands as you pick up the bottle that contains the medication. I furiously try to scream at you to put it down; but all of my efforts are futile and in vain. I watch as you consume the medication. I watch as you undergo the same bodily reaction as I did. Now you're gone. If I could cry I would weep. Not only did I waste my only chance in life but I caused the waste of another. I'm so sorry. I regret everything. I close my eyes and hope it's just a dream; that this lucid reality I'm now trapped in is only the effects of slumber. But nothing works.

The actions and consequences are both entirely real and cannot be reversed. It's over. I've accomplished nothing.

Author's Note

This isn't supposed to be grammatically perfect.

Reviews

[AmateurWriter01]

Wow that was...wow. It was a fantastic writing and damn you can feel every bit of emotion and pain this person is going through. It was so good I felt like it was me going through that process.

The real scary part is that I struggle with depression and thoughts like that all the time. The only reason I havent done anything is because I don't want to hurt the people around me. This hit close to home for me.

All in all you are a fantastic writer and I commend you on that skill. Your story drew me in from the beginning all the way to the devistating end.

[A. Halter]

Emotions literally exude from the page. Well-written. I wrote a short story recently that fits in the park of what you're writing about. It would be interesting to hear some feedback from you as to how I can make it shatter the page like you've done here. It's entitled "Her."

[Greg Belding]

Wow - suicide is no laughing matter. I mean I don't exactly write about clean, family friendly subjects but man. Good writing though.