Tuesday, December 20, 2005

   Story
I know it's Christmas time and nobody wants to read depressive stuff, but I wrote this story about three weeks ago and decided to put it here, don't know why...hope you like it...
********************* Suicide note

Dear whoever finds this or cares enough to read it,
If I had just one wish, I’d wish I wasn’t me. You wouldn’t want to be me. Trust me.
People are so perfect…but not me. Beats that old one about being like the ones you hang out with. I think I’m just so darn stubborn about some things with my fixed ideas about everything when, to be honest, I’ve got no clue where I’m headed.
To nothingness?
I want to kill myself. That will be messy. So do not enter the bathroom if you’ve got a sensitive stomach.
But what if I fail? It would be a shame to try and fail and be labelled incompetent above all…That’s my greatest fear.
Failure.
I’m writing this just in case you find me half-dead or something, do not perform CPR! If I’m still breathing, be nice and shoot me or strangle me or whatever me to cease my existence.
With greatest faith in your ability to finish me off,

Moira.
I always wanted to beat myself. Never knew when that race begun, but I knew it would never stop, at least, not until I die. As if I was running towards the self destruction with anticipation of complete oblivion. To reach the end or the burn along the way. Sometimes my mind worked so fast I thought my head was going to explode and my brain would burst into tiny particles of flesh which would attach to the whiteness of the walls so tight no one would ever tear them apart again. Blood. Blood makes so much mess.
All my life I lived to be something else, someone else. No life, no desire, no true intention. Only my Shell was my shield. And nobody could go inside. Sorry.
Everyone has a Shell. Some Shells are nice and shiny on the outside, like mine. Some people like it black and deep. All that crap about masks and those modern analysis made me really sick. Does anyone of those even know what it all means? All those theories…all those explanations but not one of them to stop the race in my head.
Shell sometimes did. If you wrapped yourself in the soothing darkness of it’s wet interior it could sooth your corps in its nothingness. Voices would get lost…until you couldn’t hear anything at all…only feel the cold breeze of the Shell’s emptiness…floating in dark abyss. My limbs felt detached from my body and sent all over the cosmic frontiers yet so close they were entering my flesh and digging my very essence… No colours. No thoughts. No lights or textures or feelings or needs…
Just Shell.
I think that’s what’s the same about all the Shells. Inside they must be equal. That’s why we only stick to the outsides. Not facing the insides…
Who would be abnormal enough to wish for the darkness when you can stare in the Sun all your life letting it’s rays blind you till you lose sense of anything that hurts. Till your eyes become blind to the eternity of pain that stands in its shadow and your eyelids burn into their current position so you can’t move them anymore. Neck immobilised in it’s position, body blocked in it’s stance.
Is Shell a blessing or a curse? Can we all enter inside?
My walls looked pristine. White is so darn positive, made me forget about my suicide plans for few moments.
Self-convincing phase: ‘’You’re so overdramatic everything is perfect in your life what if you were hungry and poor in the street how can you be so selfish think of the people who love you…’’
Self-destructive phase: ‘’You think someone loves you you jerk you don’t even love yourself how do you expect anyone else to do you think anyone will ever understand you or love you get real kill yourself…’’
It was happening again. My mind. I couldn’t make it stop. Not even for one moment. It hunted me and tortured me in thousands of different voices, it placed tears in my eyes and flushed my cheeks and I hated it. They merged they floated they rose they fell but they never went away…
But Shell was there…it’ll would never have left me. Like having a naked soul freed from it’s chains but captured in solitude of never-ending night. It wished to scream ‘’This is me! Look at me now!’’ but there was nobody to hear it…
And no one will…not now not ever…
I made my Shell permanent ad closed the only entrance that once existed. I don’t know if I ever regretted doing that.
They found me in the bathtub on December the sixth.
My veins were slit.
Detective didn’t care too much about it. He sent in the CSI and concluded it was just another ‘’loony suicidal case’ leaving home to have lunch or something.
That’s all I heard before sliding into darkness. Lights went out. Colours ceased existing.
I was dead. And, what’s the worst about it, I’ve expected it to be so different. I thought I’d just be sucked into my Shell which would become so cosy all of the sudden and all the lights would shine so bright and all the colours would stop hurting my eyes and all the sounds would stop piercing my eardrums…I was wrong. I closed my way in. It rejected me so brutally and condemned me on this passive existence in the world I so desperately tried to escape from. Hell is what you’re trying to run to or escape from but eventually end in. Depends on which role did you get in the beginning. You play it fine, you follow all the rules, you still lose.
Why?
Cause it’s just the way things go.


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