My Suicide
Inhalation after inhalation, cigarette after cigarette, pack after pack...
The pale cloud of smoke at the ceiling, the nauseating dizziness, the bitter
taste in the mouth, the sediment of the tar in the lungs, the black pitch in the
soul, the throbbing pain in the heart – this is my reward for trying to free you
of your problems and sorrows and give you my sincere care and warmth.
The tear is burning my cheek, while the alcohol is doing the same to my veins,
it makes me terribly hot. I open the balcony door, but the wind rushing inside
doesn’t sober me up. I step forward and find myself standing barefooted on the
cold stone floor of the balcony. I watch the leaves whispering something that I
cannot understand, take a deep breath and sickly smile. The next moment turns my
smile into a laugh. Old houses have wonderful banisters: they are wide and not
very high. I dexterously climb onto it smile to the fat old sun. then I walk to
and fro the banisters and finally make a nice “swallow”. But the alcohol does
its nasty thing and I fall over to the stone floor of the balcony. Life has
cheated me again, and instead of lying ten meters lower on the ground with a
hole in my head I am lying on my own floor, watering it with streams of tears,
offended tears, death doesn’t want to take me... I’m very lazy, so the balcony
hasn’t been cleaned for quite a long time, I feel sand on my lips. I slowly rise
to my feet, clean myself and shuffle back inside.
Everything isn’t that bad... News on TV, another airplane crash, credit
possibilities ruined... I push the button and delete this from my life. Then I
go to wash myself.
I wash my face and another wave of hysterics overwhelms me. I fall on the floor,
I suffer in agony. It’s terribly painful. My mind obeys me no longer. No... It
mustn’t be this way, I must hold myself together, I must go and drink some
water... An enormous effort brings me to the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of
water and the next moment the glass smashes against the wall, while the knife in
my hands is drawing lines on my wrists. “It’s harder to do it with my left
hand,” I figure out.
And here are scarlet flowers blooming, dripping down the floor. My tears once
again turn to laughter, I play with the dark liquid which supports in me
something which is usually called “life”. I feel cold, drink two more gulps of
liquid fire... I hear the sound of the bath running, and rush there, trying not
to dirty with my blood the walls which are standing in my way all the time.
Strange salty bitterness in my mouth turns out to be tears, which have come to
shift the laughter. The heart is suffering in pain again, but it grows
absolutely empty at the sight of the bathtub. I get into it, the resentment and
pain blooming into joy and happiness. Leaking out of the cut wrists, my blood
draws intricate patterns in the water. I feel terribly sleepy, slowly drifting
into sleep and I really see wonderful colorful dreams. Then I open my eyes and
see red water... But this happens rarer and rarer...
A thunder brings me back to life, I slowly open my eyes and see your face
distorted with terror. For the last time the mind gives me the chance to
understand human speech, and I hear your cries, prayers and pleas to forgive
you... But really, nothing depends on my forgiving you. It’s already too late.
It’s probably a pity, but I have no time to think about it. Comes the darkness.
Copyright by LadyMist (2001).