# Dark # Depression #Death #Suicide

Conversations with a Suicidal Man

As I approached the bench, there sat a man whose tears and facial expression could be felt for miles. Emotions so deep they radiated from his aura, entering his personal bubble of space, immediately changed my own emotions. This man, his facial expressions, the way he hung himself on this old, wooden bench. I sat beside this man, intrigued by his cloudy aura, questions posing throughout my head. I asked this man," Why do you hang yourself so low, what has you so down and on edge?" The man kept his gaze to the floor, his expression unchanged and desolate as ever. An awkward silence filled the air, awkward for me, most likely emotionally unaffecting for the man. He then proceeded to respond," I want to end my life." Thrown back in sadness, I swallowed the verbal pill he provided me, and curiously, and even caringly decided to explore this man's reasons for such a state of mind. I posed the man with another question, "What in your life has permitted you to reach such a conclusion?" The man's gaze still unchanged, he exhaled deeply, turning his head in my direction and then proceeding to lock his eyes with mine. Here the man explained his reasoning, his state of mind, and why he was so inclined to take his own life... the man spoke to me and here's what he had to say:

 

"The truth is... I lost myself. I'm not the same man I thought I once knew, I don't feel like myself and I feel like I'm watching my own life from the sidelines, as if I'm conscious of my good and bad decisions, but-- overall, what meaning do I truly hold as a person? I've become attached and obsessed with things that hold no real value but hold cell blocks in my mind, I've become lost in my own image, failing to recognize myself at times, falling in and out of myself over and over, repeatedly cycling through the same accumulation of emotions that emit from the downs and are only temporarily supressed when I'm up. These emotions that encompass my mind are feelings of sorrow, sad painful thoughts, snowballs of anxious thoughts, and depressing feelings. Life quickly changes with different circumstances that create different situations in different stages of life, and for me, different stressors, different emotions, differences that have accumulated to a point of potency in my own head. I'm narrow headed, know what direction I want to head in, and success drove me. Though, not always in positive directions, I craved success, acceptance, and satsifaction from my own vindication, a true confirmation in my own head, not a temporary convincing of my own mind of appeasement, but a true settling, fulfilling feeling that fills any hole of desire to strive for something successful. Striving to points where I've pushed my body and mind to points of no return...I had bulimic tendencies and terrible body image association, all bad but done nonethless. My mind fed this as a success outlet, flushing my body in whatever manner that could feed my mind even if my body suffered as a result. I hate myself for it but I felt trapped like I had no other choice, I began to question how I lost my health so fast. How does life move so fast and slow at the same time? It feels like I'm watching a movie of my own life that doesn't pause but has a beginning and an end, but this movie feels like at times that it goes on forever or flys by all-together. My own movie watched externally from my own head, my own mind feels detached, I feel emotions but then again hold no regard for my own emotions or well-being. My loves in life were the only things that held me steady, a loving mother, a sister I adored, family all around me. The steadiness soon began to fade as my dark thoughts began to increase. I regret many decisions I made and could've avoided over the years. People I've hurt, erased, and places I've disappeared to. I'm so hollow, with all these people in my life, I'm still held down from an undeniable leech of my mind, my death. My death looms overhead and wanting to die holds corners of my mind. Sneaking it's way into the spotlight of my thoughts every so often, snowballing and building upon each visit knowing that one day eventually it'll break me down. As my life around me continued to collapse, so did my mind and soul, reaching an almost unreturnable point. To a point, that I know pains my loved ones, but calls my name. Death I so long for, life I lack a lust for, with so many questions that reside in what awaits me thereafter, and an aching desire to flee these thoughts of mine. Never disappointing anyone, never hurting anyone, never messing up, never receving judgment, and knowing I'm happy and all whom I love are happy even before my own happiness... these are the aspirations of my dreams. Life is not such though, life is dreary, with flashes and times of happiness, with people, though all fleeting at some point or another. Every choice I've made in my life, there's another me out there that's made the other choice that I didn't make in this life, possibly living a happier life, though the choices you make outline the life you receive. I only feel power in knowing I can end it all, in knowing I can reach something, a satsifcation, where there's no stress, no hurt, no bad thoughts. I am compelled. I subconsciously hope for bad to occur to me so I can be rid of my responsibilities, that way I have an escape, and am then able to only receive love and condolences from all. Selfish, yes I know. But, I just want happiness even if it's in the most cruel of forms. I deterioate my own body's health in some crazy hope for something much worse, a physical cancer, a way out that doesn't require me to embarass my family or hurt them with my own self-inflicted death. Knowing then that they'll still live on with my death much easier if not self-inflicted. "

 

I was taken aback by the sheer depth of emotions this man exuded, but I wanted to understand more. Laying my questions, concerns, and thoughts aside I exited my head and let the man continue...

 

"I withheld lots of secrets in my life, and have had many regrettable decisions and negative thoughts throughout my life, but I know in my heart I'm good. I don't desire to hurt anyone, I only desire love and happiness for everyone, and to know what that actually feels like. That's why I practice smiling in the mirror, perfecting a smile that all view as natural emotion, or raw happiness, but truthfully a gracefully masked demon resides beneath that smile with a pool of problems and a field of fallacies. I wish I had the drive to stay longer on this Earth, but I know this life only offers me one sweet release, one real freedom. This life has offered me many belief systems, a truth I'll have to uncover for myself. Were all just people, things, human beings living in this place, odd and unique on our own, all controlling our own destinies, and emitting our own emotions. All built and shaped in different ways, humans with different experiences, emotions, physical appearances, all of that stuff. Some are built for great things in life, some not. Who knows what I could've been destined for but I knew what I felt and how I was, but not exactly who I was. I know I hold love in my heart, I know that."

 

The man's voice began to crack and his tone changed from his elaboration of his desired suicide to one of a farwell...

 

"Please just in your life, love and live on, not for me, I am merely a stranger, but for yourself young man. Don't depress, don't stress, if you must grieve then do so, because life is one stop awaiting a next unknown destination, so please live and be happy. Live a life I couldn't, move forward and love everyone. As I speak to you now, don't dwell on me, dont be sad or emphatic for me. Let there be happy memories in your future, and create a place of happiness in your heart that can never be torn down. I have decided my life is over, but you young man have a chance to be happy. Knowing I can leave this here bench, and have the hope that you will be and find happiness will grant me peace. Knowing someone out there is truly happy, I can end my life, and the unquenchable thirst shall be satsified. Then, I will finally be happy."

 

I stared intensely at the man, processing all of the deep information he elaborated to me. I realized my question and curiousity in a man who is suicidal turned into much more. I wasn't some mere bystander, in which he confided his thoughts to. No, I was his last face and human relation.  I soon realized this man didn't explain to me why he wanted to commit suicide, he verbally provided me with his suicide note. The man then looked at me and smiled, as he got up and walked away into the distance. That smile was unforgettable, almost perfect. I questioned whether that smile was the same smile he practiced in the mirror for all to see, or was it truly genuine. As the man faded into the distance, I sat in the heavy air that now filled my mind. Thoughts racing throughout my head, but emotions fluctuating rapidly on all I just heard. Though, I just continued to sit on that bench, unmoving for hours. I realized the man walked away into his death, his suicide committed shortly right after speaking to me. A ball of saliva that filled my mouth were like rocks trying to swallow it down. I heard, I listened, and was in utter dismay. But, there was nothing I could do but appreciate the man for sharing with me his deepest of emotions, opening my eyes in new perspectives. I then understood the man as I sat on that bench. Whereever he went to thereafter, was where he desired to be. All I could do was smile, because I knew what I then wanted in my life. Due to the man, I then knew the answers to my own life: love and happiness.  

 

 

 

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Suicide Silence

No turning back now,

fully comitted to the act

 

years to think it over,

but what good has it done?

 

Every single day wanting

it all to be over,

 

but some reluctance 

in following through

 

With a choice that would

have been regreted 

 

had you not already

made the determination

 

that there was no other way

to escape from your pain

View eventhorizon's Full Portfolio

Hanging From a Tree

Hanging From A Tree

by a Swinger

Hanging from a tree

I do finally see

The meaning of life

That no razor nor bleach

Could make me see

Swaying back and forth

On this tree

With my vision fading

And my bowels a-loosening

I truly see

That this was all

That life was meant to be

View kevinlu34's Full Portfolio

Razor Whip

Folder: 
Mind's Eye

I prick my finger upon her lips,

Tongue as sharp as a razor whip.

Can you be, anymore cynical.

Entirely hypothetical.

 

Speaking softly, quick reply.

Take off your wings, broken fly.

Can you be you anymore?

Anyone anymore. 

 

I'll burn that bridge when we get there,

I'll be the wind in your hair.

I am the cut you give yourself.

Why am I here, where's my help?

 

Walking lightly, float around,

Whisk me away, the lost is found.

Can you be, anything worth while,

I'll fake a smile.

 

My sleeves hurt me, I feel alive,

Across the street or downward drive.

The red gives you away,

And away I go.

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The Human I Loved Is Dead

If you had asked her how she thought she would die back when she had been alive, she would probably tell you she would meet her end by way of her untrustworthy vehicle hugging a highway median in a speedy and lethal embrace, or perhaps that one day she would grow weary of Murphy's Law dictating her every move in life, and would bid this unjust world farewell; 

leaving only a tipped chair and swinging heels as her last grand gesture before the final curtain fell. 

 

She'd no doubt punctuate the statement with a wry smile and slight laugh, and you'd be left feeling slightly unsettled and then nervous for her wellbeing, even as you chuckled along with her. 

 

But for all the made up scenarios she could have told you, she would've never guessed that her demise would ultimately be met by way of accident in the tiny rented bedroom of a house she hated living in.

 

"I feel like a ghost here. They're barely aware of my presence at all. Maybe I prick their ears with the sound of a closing door, or the muted padding of my footfalls to the bathroom or kitchen turns their heads slightly. Who knows. I think I'm forgotten as soon as that moment ends, though"

 

A particularly sleepless night, losing count of the sleeping pills entering her mouth as the hours dragged on. Plucking her eyebrows to the soundtrack of her favorite video game; tinny noises playing through the speakers of her laptop, passing the time. 

Two here, three there. Now two more because it's been about an hour and she works in the morning. 

And so the fateful night went.

 

I suppose if she surveyed the situation now, she would be sorely disappointed. 

 

"For all the nights- heck, all the DAYS- I spent willing my life to end in the worst possible way, wishing my body could at least spare a few tears to make me feel alive...and I die because I wanted to sleep? What a waste. Even in death, I was cheated" 

 

It took them 3 days to find her. 

 

The scene was strangely normal for all the turmoil she'd so often confided in me to be in. Turns out, she put herself through much more in life than was actually necessary to bring her to death's doorstep. 

 

Her phone was left unchecked on the charging port, alarm still persistently reminding her to get ready for work; countless social media notifications pockmarked the screen with bright red.

 

Her room was an eyesore and a mess: diet pills and piles of unopened bills collected dust together on a cluttered dresser top. Beauty products lay strewn across every surface, including the floor. Cardboard moving boxes with words like "Christmas Ornaments" scrawled on the side held dirty dishes, on the other side of the room, fruit flies congregated atop a pile of old food left abandoned on a paper plate.

 

Then there was her. 

 

Laying on her stomach in bed, a single sheet draped over the lower half of her eerily still form. Face to the side, head cradled on a mascara stained pillow with no pillowcase. She could pass for sleeping if you didn't already know.

 

In death, she looked neither serene nor troubled. Just lifeless. 

 

Near her head on the nightstand, sat the fateful empty bottle of sleeping pills and a glass of water which mere days ago, had held the liquid that would ultimately wash down her last meal.

 

 

Death by diphenhydramine. 

 

 

"Good grief, what a silly way to go. I could write a story about that, you know"

 

Even now, I swear I can hear her voice in my ear. Laughing at me, correcting my grammar, telling me to lighten up as I write this. 

 

God, I wish you could've known her. 

 

I would give anything just to once more see the way her cheeks flushed when you complimented her, or how her eyes could hold so much obvious pain, yet her mouth could defy its existence and you'd somehow believe her when she said she was okay.

 

I never had the chance to see her happy; really, truly happy, and that has plagued me with tremendous guilt since I first got the call from her distressed parents.

 

I don't know if she would've taken her life by choice. I don't know that. I can't know that.

I know she spoke of it with an unnerving amount of frequency, but I always believed that the fire inside her burned just enough to keep her moving forward despite the misery she showed me, yet hid from the rest of the world.

 

Whenever the flames dimmed and only faint, glowing embers remained, I had made sure I was always there to softly breathe life into them, and sooner or later she'd find her resolve to keep going. 

 

But in the end, it only took a moment of my absence on an otherwise normal night, for a strong gust of wind to extinguish her flame completely. 

 

To smother out the delicate existence I had all but dedicated myself to preserving. 

 

The only thing I know with complete and unwavering certainty, is that night, the world was robbed of someone who had greatness in them that could have led revolutions. 

 

Yet she had tricked herself into believing she was worthless- 

 

"merely a cosmic dust bunny under the bed of this vast universe",

 

-and I think it finally caught up with her. 

 

All that untapped potential now lies buried under 6 feet of dirt in a stupid wooden box. She didn't deserve a box; she deserved the world and I failed to give it to her. 

 

Now I mourn that a man will never know what it is to love her, and a small handful of women will never get to experience what it really meant to call her 'friend'. 

 

She was so fierce and passionate about the real things in life- past all the bullshit and facades- she knew what was worth her love, and would do anything for those select few she held dear, even at the expense of her own wellbeing.

 

I can't make any more memories with her. I only have what she left me with, and although I've tried to keep them fresh in my mind, the years pass and I start to wonder what was reality and what is now merely fabrication of my experiences with her.

A feeble attempt by my aging mind to add years onto a life that was cut so short by the most unfortunate and preventable of circumstances.

So much time has passed, but some nights she still visits me in my dreams, and we just talk. Trying desperately to make up for the lost years she should've spent by my side in one night.

 

When I wake from those dreams, my pillow is damp and my throat constricts painfully as I come to realize I'm still alone, and she's still gone. 

 

There are so many unknowns, even all this time later.

Questions that will never have answers. 

It took a lot of years for me to come to terms with knowing that and also being okay with it. 

 

She was always something of a mystery, and the way she left me only further served to prove that there really was no figuring her out. 

 

I only know I miss her every day. 

 

 

"I'm tired of people trying to somehow solve me. You know, figure me out as if I'm a Rubik's cube or a math problem. You don't ask where the wind comes from and why it does what it does. You simply let it cool your face on a hot summer day, or admire how it bends the stalks of flowers and makes the leaves of the mightiest trees tremble at its touch. 

 

I am the wind" 

 

 

G. Bosquez 

6/13/2015 

3:03 AM

I Died

Folder: 
Depression

"You're acting very strange

As of late"

My parents were saying to me,

The day I Died. 

 

They had found my

Shopping list the day as well;

'Rope, Castor Beans, Knife, Space',

All the remedies to make sure I Died.

 

I left them be,

Standing alone.

I went off to my favourite tree,

All to see, if I Died.

 

I drank the ricin,

I tied the noose,

I slit my wrist,

And then, with a smile, I hung loose.

 

And so I Died...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a poem I wrote when I wasn't feeling "great". This isn't suppose to be a poem to shock people, but a poem to enjoy and to learn there is a lot better than this.