Journey out of this place
I kept walking. I didn't look back. I turn my back on this cruel world today. Fuck the world and everyone in it. These thoughts mixed around in my head, creating a lethal concoction. I call it suicide. I felt the harsh brown leaves crunch underfoot as I trekked deeper and deeper into the forest, further and further from all existence. Out here there was no one to stop me doing what I wanted and so desperately needed to do. I needed to end my cruel and pointless existence, for me and for the safety of all those around me. No one could grab me and pull me back together, making my life the more depressing that it was at the current situation. Considering the circumstances of my arrival at the forest, it was a relatively nice day, sun out, and the birds were singing; the birds should've been whistling a funeral march on a day like today. I looked up the path forged by other hikers. Not long to go now.
What was the point of my existence? What would all my achievements count for when it all came to an abrupt end? Fuck all! Death is the only way to achieve equality. I walked closer and closer to my death. The cliff was now mocking me in the horizon as I made my way through the scrub. When we are dead, colour, race, wealth, sex, all that doesn't count for anything.
We are thrown through an 80-year phenomenon of cruel memories, to be turned off and not remember a thing. I stepped out of the forest and onto the tip of a cliff, my portal to the infinite black. I took one last glance back, to see if anyone was behind me. One man, my brother, "Wait, Think this through, your making a big mistake," he screamed in desperation. He lunged at me, he was trying to bring me back, bring me back to the cruel world. He tackled me and pinned my to the ground, rocks stabbing me in the back like my fucking brother was now. He stared me down, trying to extract some guilt out of me; he hadn't a fucking chance. I pulled a knife out of my leg. I had stabbed it into my leg, the first step and ripping the hope out of my family's heart. They knew I wasn't going to be around for too much longer. I transferred the blood knife from my leg to my brother's stomach. His soft skin pierced easily, his face frozen in a state of shock, the face that was once etched in desperation. I rolled him over and pulled the knife out of him, to only drive it back in, again and again and again, he sobbed and screamed uncontrollably, yet those sounds were lined in regret. I drove it into him one last time, his voice fading away, while my leg bled crimson death. When his screams faded I knew he had gone to the black. I envied him, he now feels nothing, no pain, no regret, no nothing. Yet I was still here, feeling every bit of pain that could be mustered in this cruel world. My leg bled, it protested as I limped to the cliff face, it was relieved when I then kneeled on the edge, exposing my vulnerable neck to the crashing waves down below.
I felt the cold on my neck as the thoughts of what was to come next, both excited me and scared me. I opened my eyes to the world one last time. I thrust the knife through my throat. the cold bite of death clutched me and pulled me towards the black. I watched as my life bled through my fingertips and slowly lost consciousness, I could see the black…