Seeking Only the Mercy of Death

Suicide

I woke up that morning to find that I was blind.

Objects as large as a couch appeared as nothing more than a poorly colored blur.

It would have been impossible for me to make a path to walk by had I not been so familiar with the layout of the room. 

What sight still remained was so little that is was arguably useless, and yet I felt no feeling of alarm.

The truth is, I had already been blind for a very long time.

Perhaps not in a physical sense, but now the reality only coincided with the emotional state I had long been victim of.

It was only hours earlier when I had  begun downing the bottles of liquor, and throwing back the buffet of pills that I hoped to be my last. A potentially lethal cocktail ingested with a single hope:

 To end my life.

The effects came on slowly, but hit harshly. Lying on the floor of my living room I gulp down the last of the liquor, and shut my eyes begging with them never to open again.

I had often fantasized about death, thinking how beautiful it must be, so I was not afraid, but ready. Feeling it begin to draw near my only request was that it take me quickly, the sooner the better.

Death, it did visit, but in the end it would not have me.

My eyes opened the next morning to a violent battle in my stomach caused by the previous nights mixture. It felt as if I was being gutted, and so my failed attempt resurfaced itself  into my toilet bowl. 

That night I had felt death, conversed with it even, like one might with an old friend, but at last I was turned away. My body, not ready to give up the fight, forced me back into the world I so badly wished to leave behind. My first clear thought began with my cursing my body for keeping me alive, when my mind had already given in. I wanted to leave, I was ready, and in the end it was my body, a thing I had never treated with kindness, that kept me alive.

I find myself again, forced to face another day.

What exactly was I to make of a day I never planned to arrive to?

Should I feel fortunate, or just more hopeless than before?

Truly, I hardly felt much at all. 

Eventually,  using what little life remained in my heavy, unsteady body, I managed to pick myself up off the ground, and reach toward the front door, opening it slowly as if I feared something might jump out at me. Suddenly I start to  feel the first ray of sun hit my paler than usual skin. A sensation confirming that in some way I was not yet dead The thought makes me cringe. Reluctantly, I step forward, entering back into the world filled with cruelty enough to rob me of the will to live. Feeling much like bait on the end of a fishing rod, I found myself saying, to myself as well as the world: “come and get me, while you still can.”

Reviews

[Hayley]

I am blown away by the utterly raw feel of this piece.
As I am not to judge because I as well as many others have had and have my problems, I will say that your quality is strength. While your body kept you alive, it was still willing to fight, despite the fact that your mind was ready to give up. As in many works of literature, it is clear that the heart and the mind sometimes don't match up, as well as what the body wants and needs and what the mind wants and needs.
I only say this because I have struggled with somewhat of an eating disorder, keep in mind and I mean no offense whatsoever. But with anorexia, the mind controls the body, though the body wants what the mind does not want to give.
I think you have high potential as a writer and I believe as well that what comes from the heart and the soul is true art. While some may say other elements kept you alive, well, that is highly debatable in today's world.
All that matters is that with your last line, you say "come and get me, while you still can."
Sorry for the long review as I have never read you before, but I found this very compelling. Overall, this was an excellent piece!

[Muse]

your profile intriqued me..so I checked you out. Very mesmerizing...I just digested some of the havoc you seem to thrive apon....and lucky for you...havoc provides no calories.

You are raw and gifted. I feel that you have been jaded, by both life, and the body dysmorphic disorder that seems to have a strong grip on your reality. And in your darkness...you penn so beautifully. Here's a hug...and a hamburger. 99/100

[Muse]

your profile intriqued me..so I checked you out. Very mesmerizing...I just digested some of the havoc you seem to thrive apon....and lucky for you...havoc provides no calories.

You are raw and gifted. I feel that you have been jaded, by both life, and the body dysmorphic disorder that seems to have a strong grib on your reality. And in your darkness...you penn so beautifully. Here's a hug...and a hamburger. 99/100

[Cyrano]

good s**t, i love how you make ugly or negatively associated words sound beautiful all the while retaining their dark hue. once again good s**t

[JCP]

Such a good depiction of last resort and fighting through life's darkest moments. Tormetingly good. Nice job!

[khalid]

it is really optimistic, but maybe this is the reason why it is great too. anyways, nobody can ever tell us which life is better, the one we live or the one after death because unfortunately, none is back from there. just try to get the most enjoy of your life whatever you face

[god is not great, I am]

ha wait, I know this one..
ITS JESUS.
God, I feel better already.

You have your beliefs, and Ill have mine, thank you.

[EquivalentExchange]

Perhaps it was not your body that kept you here, but something else. I have been on the brink of death myself, but you paint it so sadly. Being that close is freeing, eye opening. You are obviously intelligent, but you have much to learn.