No turning back

Suicide

I often find myself staring into space, into the vastness of my room. I often think about how lonely I am, and then I start to feel lonely, spreading through my mind and numbing my body. That’s when the corners of the room seem to creep in; enclosing me in a bubble I cannot find my way out of. I have no motivation.

I have been seeing a counsellor recently, my brother told me it would do me some good to open up, and he was right, it has made me surer that I do not belong in this world. That the way I think and the person I am has been mistakenly created and is no longer capable of fitting in. I stare expressionless into the mirror that sits covered in dust on my dressing table, willing the image that is reflected back to become pretty, become strong, but no amount of pleading changes the person staring back at me.

Today was my seventh appointment with her, and even though she is good at her job, I am beyond help. She encourages me to think positively. However the moment I begin to think I am, a negative thought replaces it and the whole process starts again, there is not a lot you can do when you are your own worst enemy. I sat on the sofa like usual today and pretended I was better putting on my most convincing poker face, and in a way I felt powerful. Powerful that I could deceive someone that should be able to read me like a book.

Scanning the apartment the rooms appear large, mainly because I hardly own anything; I have nothing to fill them with. The landlord is chasing me for the rent but he doesn’t know I no longer have a job to pay it with. I am afraid that if he knows he shall throw me out, leaving me homeless, even though homeless is how I feel all the time, even when my eyes are closed, the sadness plays its part in my dreams. Lately I have been having the same dream, a dream where heights don’t scare me. Instead I am on the top floor of my childhood home, the wooden bay windows are open to let fresh air in. I attempt to squeeze my body through the gap but I am too big, so I open it wider, and without another thought, I jump.

The rustle of the plastic bag in my hand snaps me back to the present. Plastic bags are something everyone keeps, slung into the back of a cupboard only to be forgotten about, until the collection grows too big. Something as simple as this can cause so much damage though. It can cut off the air supply that should effortlessly seep through your nose and mouth and fill your lungs.

Suddenly, footsteps climbing the stairs disrupt the silence, so I remain still. The bareness of the room makes me feel exposed even though the walls hide me from view, I hold my breath.

Knock knock, its Derek my Landlord, so I remain still, waiting for him to disappear. Knock knock.

“You owe me rent Alicia!”              

Eventually I hear his footsteps recede down the stairs in defeat, but I know he shall be back, and I can’t help but think that he is going to get a shock when eventually he uses his spare key to get in here. I wonder how long it will be until my body is found, an empty shell wasting away on the carpet. I see a grin spread across my face in the mirror. They shall be sorry that they didn’t care.

I pick up the only pen I have and begin to scribble my thoughts onto a scrap piece of paper. It’s strange how even though I think nobody understands me I still feel the need to have one last attempt at explaining myself. Writing my feelings down may somehow bring me peace before I do the deed. Glancing down at the page, it is full of my handwriting so I sign the bottom with a scribble, signifying that the only thing left to do is what I have planned. I fiddle with the handles of the plastic bag, listening to what will be the last sound I hear, or maybe that will be my lungs begging for air, fighting against my head. Life isn’t for me, I have accepted this.

The wind whirls around the building, it whistles as it seeps through the gaps in the window. I tuck my hair behind my ears, trying to get as comfortable as possible when my phone rings.

It is my brother, his caller ID is flashing brightly on the screen. Eventually I press the green phone.

“Hello” I try and hide my annoyance.

“Hi Louise, are you busy?”

“Err…I was just going to have a bath”

“Oh I won’t keep you long, just wanted to tell you some good news.”

“What is it?”

“I got the job…. You know the one I had an interview for last week, well the job is mine I start next month.”

“That’s great” I watch my eyes roll in the mirror. Trust my brother to get all the luck and actually fit into this world.

“Yeah just thought I would let you know…. Anyway I shall leave you to your bath.”

“Bye”

He didn’t even ask me how I was. Even my own brother doesn’t care enough. I look down to my lap and once again stare at the plastic bag, and I can already feel myself stop breathing. I close my eyes, no more postponing, my mind is made up. I don’t belong here that is clear to me now.

I raise my hands, and I look up to the whiteness that I am about to surround myself with. The object that will drain the life out of me is grasped firmly in my hands, my knuckles matching its colour. I take one last glance in the mirror and realise tears are leaking from my eyes, but no sob is heard, just the face of someone with nothing left to give.

Without even a second thought the whiteness envelopes me and I pull the handles tight underneath my chin tying it together with a bobble that I keep on my wrist; ensuring that it will not come loose without a struggle. I take in a breath and already the air is limited. I can feel my heart battering against my chest, pleading with me to reconsider but my mind is made up, my hands don’t attempt to undo the bag, and with this knowledge I know today, in a matter of minutes I will be dead.