By Shino Yume
The Sky was a beautiful orange color. The sun was setting behind the hill, letting go of one final burst of beauty before disappearing completely, allowing the crystal moon to take over the sky, backed up by diamond stars.
In the darkness a girl sat on a swing. The wind blew a crying whisper, rustling her hair and playing a song in her ears. She sat sideways on the bench swing, her legs curled up in front of her, head resting on her knees. If one looked closely, they might see the glitter of moonlight reflected against her tears. She let go of a long shaky breath before letting go completely, crying until she had no more tears left to cry.
It's been a while. I lift my head from my knees, rubbing my dry eyes with the back of my hand. I'm so tired now, but I want to hang on, just a little longer, so I can remember what got me here.
I guess you could say it's been building up for a while. Everything inside just suddenly over whelmed me, making it so easy to take the pills. First three, then another, then another, and half an hour later four more, just for good measure. Now all that's left for me to do is wait. Wait or sleep. My eyelids are getting heavier by the second, but I'd still like to stay a while longer, in my last waking moments.
It's been a hectic two years since my first attempts to end my suffering. I could turn the blame on my parents. After all, they are the ones who hit me to tell me I was wrong. They're the ones who never told me who I really was. They are the ones, who brought me into this world, aren't they?
Nightmares are there too. Nightmares of falling or bleeding, then waking up to find real blood on my hands, arms or legs. I remember some time ago, an order from the family doctor that I needed to cut my fingernails short, a punishment for clenching my fists too tightly; enough to make them bleed. It had been too hard of a habit to break.
Then there where people, my biggest fear. There were people I hated, and people I feared. There were people who had everything handed to them on a silver platter; people who could look at you and without speaking a word could say: "Why aren't you like us? Why aren't you popular like us? Why don't you dress like us? Why aren't you perfect like us?" There were lots of people like that.
Just so, there was the person who claimed to be enlightened. A person who told me everything, and at the same time, nothing. Now I wasn't sure if it were lies or not. I wasn't sure if I could trust or not. I wasn't sure if I'd wanted to know or not.
Then there were the worst people. The ones who force you down underneath them, hurting you until you obeyed and gave them what they wanted, no matter how much you screamed and struggled. Hurting you so badly, then finishing, and leaving you to wish you were dead. They are the stronger ones, who can get what they want with pleasure, and leave you shocked, gasping and crying in pain. People are not to be trusted.
Lastly there are the doctors. Doctors who in all their glory tell you that you are sick with some long wordy disease, then leave you sitting alone while they talk with your parents, and your insides freeze over in fear, or maybe hate. Hate toward the doctors who slowly take away your freedom in tiny glass-bead pieces. Then they go so far as to take it one step further and tell you that you are emotionally disturbed, and then walk away with their fat paychecks bulging in their pockets like candy. Evil people they are, yes, evil people.
And who's to say that I can trust my friends? Am I really talking to them, or am I talking to their masks? Obviously they don't know about my dark ways and morbid suicidal thoughts. But it's not their fault, it's mine. I am the one who chose not to upset them by telling them.
Sometimes everything just gets to me. Now is one of those times.
I rise slowly, and stumble down the hill to my house, the medicine finally starting to take its full effects. In a dream I get inside the house and somehow find the way to my bed, laying down and letting a black wave wash over me, finally granting my death wish…
Sunlight is peeking through my window and I wake up with the worst stomachache ever. I groan and close my eyes.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I should be eternally sleeping, but instead I am alive, and with a scorpion wreaking havoc inside my stomach.
I sighed and rolled onto my stomach. I wish I had died, because now I must live with this guilt. I close my eyes and drift back into one of my many dreams I'd have that day.
The end of that person has come. This is the beginning of a new dreamer.