Decision Time

A flash fiction story of a very confused person making a very important decision.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

They say before you die your life flashes right before your eyes, but what if you’re just considering it? Staring at myself in the mirror, crying, I’m seeing my life before my very eyes but I’m not facing death, at least not immediately. Every aspect of my life, my memories, my interactions, my friends and family, and even what my purpose may or might be, I’m analyzing it all, weighing the options, making a mental list of pros and cons.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

What do I want? That questions haunts me, it bounces around in my mind and floats in front of my face taunting me daily. Purpose. What does that word even mean to me? It’s something to do that gives your life meaning. Or it’s the meaning of your life and something you’re supposed to do. Either way it is something that escapes me, something I am supposed to have but I don’t, Leaving a hole in my being where it is supposed to be, it is a missing piece making me incomplete. Not broken but, not right.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

Trust is an issue I have. I don’t really trust myself so how can I possibly put true trust in another human being? I do want to have a friend to help with this burden that presses on me at all times weighing me down, to help carry some of the weight constantly threatening to crush me, but I don’t know anybody that I think would care enough. Somebody that I even trust enough to open up to and leave myself so vulnerable that I’m like a fly with broken wings facing a flyswatter.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

Relationships strengthen me, but they also weaken me, leave me vulnerable. I need to know that others care for me because the fact the some people might actually give a s**t means that I’m not completely the waste of space that I think I am. But if the caring is not returned, or taken away, it leaves me aching in ways that I don’t know how to heal. If they don’t care it’s because I really am a waste of space and if they stopped caring it’s because they got to know me and saw for the piece of s**t that I am. If they don’t care why should I?

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

All my tears have formed a sticky pool at my feet. I’m still staring at myself in the mirror but the edges of my vision are darkening and it’s becoming blurry. I’m running out of time, I need to make a decision. Bandage myself up, or end it all and escape from all the pain.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

My arms and legs feel heavy, I’ve bled too many tears, my limbs are covered in tiny red rivers. I can feel that one of two things is about to happen, I’m going to make a decision, or one is going to be made for me. I can feel my heartbeat quicken at the thought.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

Pain, sadness, and anger, it all comes from within me and it stays there, slowly eating me from the inside out. I could try to endure it, to learn to live with it, cope with it, and maybe even one day get better. I know that there might be a light at the end of this pitch black tunnel but I can’t see it, or maybe I’ve given up looking.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

I can no longer stand, blackness is eating away at the edges of my vision and threatens to swallow my consciousness. I want to give up, to embrace the darkness, I hate myself too much to go on any longer. I struggle to lift my heavy hand to my neck, the blade I’m holding felt almost weightless before, but now it feels like a cinderblock in my hand.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

The blade is slowly approaching my neck, I’m aware that I have a few fleeting seconds to end it for good and I can’t help but continue to calculate the weight and validity of my decision. I truly wonder if I’m making the right decision but the thought vanishes as it’s replaced with the one that it won’t matter once the deed is done.

*Drip, Drip, Drip.

I can feel the cold steel against my neck. It’s time to do it. To end it all and finally be free. All I have to do is pull my arm and slice open my jugular, but I hesitate, whether from a primal instinct to preserve my life or from a final feeling of hope I don’t know. The knife falls from my hands and clutters to the floor. The ringing sound of steel against tile is the last sound I hear before I collapse. Black swallows my vision and quickly starts to devour my conscious mind. I have one last fleeting thought wondering if I’m going to wake up and still not sure that I want to. As the tunnel of darkness closes in on me I think that I might have saw a flicker of light at the end of it, but it was so quick I’m not sure if it was really there at all.

Author's Note

It is dark as is my writing style.
Please review. Anything really.

Reviews

[Egonarc]

"and maybe even one day get better" - maybe look this over? in the 7th paragraph of *Drip Drip Drip
This is really a beautiful piece. Thanks for showing this to me.