Ermmmm...WARNING: This might be too graphic for the weak of heart. Do not read on if you do not want to see this side of me.
Holding a knife in one hand and a bottle of pills in another. The mind tries to figure out which is less painful. The silver steel on the left hand weights heavy. If you don't cut it right, you won't go. The right hand beckons to gobble them down. No hassle...just sleeping your life away. Yet the wonders of television tells of stories that pursues if things go wrong. Left hand brings about blood loss, heart failure, muscle failure and loads more to live with if it doesn't work. Right hand will cause kidney failure, sticking a tube of charcoal down your throat and obviously chemical poisoning. The mind then cartwheels on which would be the possibility the body and mind and soul can most live with. Answer that comes to mind; both cause it doesn't matter anymore.
Yet, courage is not present when the time comes to actually slice the skin as the steel blade touches it's surface. Reluctance stands in between as the bottle touches the lips. Everything is in a standstill. The world continues revolving. The housemates outside laughing and screaming going about their own lives and knowing relief as they are about to leave soon. The house is always empty anyway because they are always so busy. The man of dreams is still moving on and thinking I am supposed to get over it quick and am not in really dire pain. The friends who walked out on me still saying that I am the bad crowd to hang out with..the irritant of the group...oh so many more expressions.
The mind screams; "What do I do now?".
The heart argues; "Think of all those with no life to spare."
The mind replies snugly; "Then God grant them her years so she may go early. She doesn't want it anyway"
The heart gently prompts; "But what of mom and dad?"
Satan is chuckling in the background. Amused at my inner banter. The last sentence provokes tears. Dilemma pursues..."How now brown cow?"
Minutes later, the inner banter is finally silent. The mind flashes past images of beautiful mom and dad, bro and sis. The right hand slowly places the pills on the table, the left hand guides the steel back into its holder. Satan stops laughing and mocks me of my failed attempts. I decide to ignore him....just for today I am stronger. The steel blade and pills of death is then neatly stored in the second drawer for safekeeping.
Is all these just happening in my mind or am I going insane?
Karma brings back the moments I used to laugh at people who are in depression. Saying how they just need to snap out of it and those medication prescribed is just a way of escape. My right hand now looks up the directory for counseling assistance available in the university. I will have to think about this. Hmmmmmmm...
To be continued........