An Excerpt

...At first I could not accept your reasons for leaving me. You meant the world to me. I give you everything I had and I would even bring back a piece of the moon if you asked me to. I gave you my heart, but all you did was to stab it with a rusting serrated knife. It hurts so much when you left me. You created in me a big gaping void that I cannot fill up. I have tried everything, but I only seem to have made it even bigger.

You left me in a blazing desert, under the scorching sun. I feel like a dried up pile of bones with no will to carry on. All I can see are illusions of you in the horizon, illusions that I cannot reach even if I tried. Even when the sun sets, I am stranded in the cold lonely night. My tears have all dried up, and I cannot sleep with the feeling of sand in every crevace of my body. I feel like my blood had also turned to sand, making my heart ache with every beat. I tried hating you for leaving me this way, but I cannot blame you for it. I am my own fault, and you deserve better.

I am pathetic. I am tired of crying all night and bothering the people I know. They would eventually leave me, just like you did. I am all alone with no one to care about me. I long for a gentle hug, but nobody would even approach this hideous fiend that I have become. I don’t even recognize my face in the mirror anymore. The loneliness is already eating me, like an overpowering shadow creeping up on me, taking every sense of light that once gave me hope.

I have no more hope. I have no more feelings. I am numb, and I hate being this way. I am drowning in the dark waters, not being able to see which side is up, but I can feel that I am sinking deeper and deeper into the dark chasm. I am suffocating; every breath I take is saturated with poisonous fumes and every breath I give, I feel like a part of me is leaving. I cannot see the light anymore.

I know nobody would notice if I am gone. Even if they do, they would probably find a replacement in an instant. I've done my best, but it is never enough. I am dispensable and I feel like an overused, crumpled up piece of scrap paper at the bottom of the rubbish bin. I find myself waiting for the incinerator to turn on, to finally end my pathetic life. I really don’t see a point in living anymore.

There is nothing left for me in this world. I have lost my purpose. I am a failure. I cannot keep up with even the simplest of tasks. I feel stupid. I hear my conscience telling me that I should keep trying, but I know that it is pointless to continue. Everything that I have done has gone unnoticed or ridiculed. There is always something wrong, and I can never make anyone happy, especially you. I am just wasting everyone's time by being here. The world will be a better place without me in it.

The closest analogy that I can think to explain how I feel is like I am being mauled by a lion. I am contemplating proving that theory. It would be soothing to know that I would be in the company of the creatures I admire, but I do not deserve to be happy when I die. I deserve more unforgiving pain for my failures...



~This is purely a fictional writing. Any resemblance to person(s) contemplating or have already committed suicide is purely co-incidental.