[This is an overly dramatized piece of fiction based on an event in my life, written for my creative writing class. The characters in no way represent me or anyone in my family though. I am not suicidal. I promise]
I don’t like him much. He’s staring at me. Can’t people get a little privacy around here? It’s not like I chose to share my grief with the whole world. They are making me sit out here. Sorry if my tears are ruining your perfect day. I can’t control them. Yeah, that’s right, look away. It should be unnerving watching a stranger cry. Took you long enough to figure that out. I hope the rest of your day sucks because mine will. I was having a great day, I bet you were too. Now it’s been ruined, all because…
I don’t like him much. He’s staring at me. Can’t people get a little privacy around here? It’s not like I chose to share my grief with the whole world. They are making me sit out here. Sorry if my tears are ruining your perfect day. I can’t control them. Yeah, that’s right, look away. It should be unnerving watching a stranger cry. Took you long enough to figure that out. I hope the rest of your day sucks because mine will. I was having a great day, I bet you were too. Now it’s been ruined, all because…
“Are you ready to go honey? Its time.”
Oh no, here comes the waterfall. Open up the floodgates. Call in the coast guard. Someone’s about to drown in tears. Mom, grab the lifeboats. You’re going to need them.
“Down the hall to the end. Room three, on your right.”
It’s a journey into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean now. I’m no longer drowning. I am fully submerged. I am soaked. I am the water. It seems to be all I’m made of. The tears just don’t stop. Yeah avoid my eyes doctor. Don’t take responsibility for what you’re doing to me. I get it.
“I’m really sorry…it’s the best thing to do, really.”
Yeah right. You’re really sorry? You do this all the time. You have to be immune to the grief. You know…this is the third one, the second that we’ve brought to you. You and I aren’t exactly on good terms right now. So I don’t feel your sympathy. It’s falling on deaf ears.
“Say your goodbyes. Then we will bring her out to you.”
Goodbye? How do you say goodbye to a best friend, a loyal companion, a family member. How can I tell her everything is going to be all right when you’re about to MURDER her. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. Look at those eyes. She’s terrified of this place. She won’t be able to die happy because she’s scared. Regardless, you don’t care, you just tell me it’s time to say goodbye. The decision has already been made. Goodbye my love. I hope you forgive us. No longer in pain you’ll be able to join Prince Caspian in cat heaven, go chase mice to your heart’s content. Oh I can’t handle it. I need to get away.
“I know its hard honey. But think about how happy she’ll be.”
I won’t know! She won’t know! She won’t FEEL! She’s dead. She’s gone. I was mean to her. I yelled at her for her constant meowing. And all this time she was trying to tell us how she felt. You may as well kill me with her. End both of our suffering. Since you keep saying it’s the “humane” thing to do, to end ones suffering.
“Here’s her collar. Keep it like your brother kept Caspian’s.”
Yes, so I can look at it EVERY day. I can then remember what I did to her. So I can cry myself to sleep when I see it before I go to bed. Okay, give it to me. One day I might be able to laugh, to remember the good times. But I have a feeling that’s far from now. I feel like there’s a hole in my heart and my tear ducts are broken. One would think you’d be out of tears by now. I feel empty…but they still fall.
“Would you like to pick the tree to plant over her?”
Would I like to? Yes. Can I? I don’t know. I can hardly see to walk. How will I pick a tree? I don’t even think you have a tree worthy of her burial mom. All these little saplings, representing life, as she lay dead beneath them. Don’t you get the irony of that? Am I the only one who sees it? You people are so insensitive, so calculated in your actions. Am I the only one who cares? Goodnight world. I cannot talk to anyone else.
“I understand what you are going through; do you need an extension on the paper?”
You understand? Then tell me YOUR sob story. Tell me exactly how it is you understand. I slept on it (barely), came to school, and I feel even worse now. An extension? Why. So I can sit and wallow in self pity for that much longer. So I have nothing that will distract me from the thoughts of her that plague my mind. No thank you, I don’t need your pity extension. I can get through this myself, as strong as I ever was.
“Do you need a hug? Is there anything I can do?”
Yes, I will take a hug. Because you’re my friend and you think you’re offering it out of kindness. But really, it’s only going to make YOU feel better. It makes you feel like you’ve done something to help. But really, what can you do. Nothing. You can’t bring her back; you couldn’t cure her of her cancer. You can’t fix the hole that now resides in my heart. I wish you could. But no, there is nothing for you to do. Once again, I’m all alone. I’m going to curl up in bed. Alone.
“Honey, are you awake?”
No, go away. I will lay here and pretend to sleep. Just so you leave me alone. Did you know she used to come in here? Every morning at 7am, without fail. She’d curl up with me in bed before I went to school. Now I’m left alone. I don’t have my snuggle buddy any longer. It will never be the same. She was here yesterday. In this exact spot. Warm, breathing, alive. We had no idea. Oh Black Beauty, I miss you. And I’m sorry. Amazing how in a span of less than 24 hours everything can change so drastically.
“Want to go to the movies? You need to do something.”
No I don’t want to go to the movies. But I will. It’s been a week. I haven’t seen my friends. I haven’t done anything social. Yeah I will come. No I will not enjoy myself. I will not laugh. I won’t even talk. It would have been better if you’d just left me to sulk in my room. I’m a killjoy in public. I was doing perfectly fine alone. I was happy. In a different sense of the word.
“Please talk to me. We’re here to help. Your parents are worried”
Hello doctor. My cat was murdered. I was an accessory to the crime. I don’t deserve to live. The end. Don’t make me step on that scale. We both know we won’t like what we see. I know I’m wasting away. I don’t care. I let Black Beauty waste away. Why should I be kept from understanding what she had to suffer through? Don’t even try to prescribe that medicine I see in your hands either. I need no sleeping pills. She got no pain killers. I will remove my option to avoid the pain for she had no such option. Besides, I’m beginning to enjoy the night. So much becomes clear when the world falls completely still.
“Honey, it’s not healthy! You can’t ignore everyone forever! We love you!”
Stop crying mom. You don’t care about what I’m feeling. You only care about my physical being. You can’t bear to lose me. You’re trying to prevent it. I couldn’t bear to lose Beauty, yet I couldn’t prevent it. I still don’t know why I’m alive. There’s nothing here I deserve.
“She’s coming around! Quick, get the nurse!”
Why are you yelling so loudly? Why am I in the hospital? Why didn’t you let death take me? He was right there. Grinning with those glowing evil eyes of his. I was attracted to it. I wanted to go. He was beautiful, he was an escape. I should have taken the final bottle of pills; I thought two would be enough. But you’re too fast mom. Too quick to keep yourself happy. You put yourself first. I would have been happy if you’d let me go. But you would have been sad. Now you will be happy and I’m back where I was. Unhappy. And alone.
“I’m Dr. Carol. We can work through this together, I promise.”
Oh boy. You’re not too good at this ma’am. If someone is at the point where they need a shrink, then they aren’t okay with trusting anyone, especially not strangers. So don’t make empty promises. I know you say that phrase to everyone. It’s been programmed into you. I know my story doesn’t really resonate in your heart. You went to school to learn how to sympathize with anyone who walks into your office. Coming here is useless. I’m useless. See, now I’m wasting my parents’ money. I’m a waste of space in this world. And you can’t help that, unless you let me go.
“Look honey, her name is Buttercup!”
Are you serious right now mom? You really went out and got me a kitten? And what were you thinking with that name! You can’t replace Black Beauty. Did you know I used to say “What’s up Buttercup” when she meowed at me. No? Well you should have been paying more attention I guess. Now I have another daily reminder, as if the collar wasn’t enough. There’s a new innocent kitten. An intrusion in my solitude. But I can’t blame her. Only myself, for not being able to accept her…I should really try harder for her sake.
“We are all happy to see you smile today!”
Yes Dr. Carol, I thought you’d say that. The path of least resistance, right? You’ll leave me alone if I smile, talk, make you think you’re doing your job. That’s what you want. So that’s what you will get. For now. Nothing like creating a semblance of peace. May as well make you happy. Then my parents will feel better too.
“I’m happy you came shopping with me today honey!”
Yes mother, I know you are. Why do you think I’m here? Like clothing can really make me feel better. Oh lets go get some new shoes, maybe some pretzel bites, yay! Not. Its more materialistic things. I get no joy out of it. Buy me what you want but you can’t buy me happiness.
“You coming out bowling with us, that makes me really happy”
I’m getting sick of that word. My shrink, my parents, now my friends. You’re all smothering me in your happiness. Like you think I will absorb some of it if it oozes off of you excessively. Well it’s not working. I don’t know if I can keep up this charade of happiness anymore when it’s the only thing you guys can focus on. You never give me a break from it. I thought it would work if you’d just let me pretend I was happy. But it’s not working for me anymore. I’m done with this. I can’t take it. I will never be myself again and you can’t fix that. Thanks for the effort. I do love you. But…
I HAVE BECOME COMFORTABLY NUMB
I found this journal, this recording of her thoughts, three days after she died. We were cleaning her room when I discovered it. It was in the false bottom of her bookshelf. The one that only I knew about. I can’t help but think she left it there so I could find it. I am the one who found her too. She hung herself. It’s been two and a half months. I still can’t get the image of her cold lifeless body swinging from that rope. It’s etched in my mind. Her baby blue eyes now empty forever of the life and laughter they’d already been void of for the past few months. I try to look back, see what we missed. Many say we should have been more cautious after the first attempt. But she went to the psychiatrist. She was smiling. She was even letting Buttercup sleep in her bed.
I rake through my mind day after day. My thoughts are accompanied by that gruesome picture I’ve been left with of her. Maybe if we’d just asked, asked her to talk about it. Let her grieve, let her be angry. Maybe if more time had been spent on her feelings and less on making sure she was happy every minute of every day. Maybe then it could have been prevented. But some say, with suicide, it’s a fifty/fifty chance. Either they have completely set their mind on it, or they want you to stop them. Knowing my sister, it was the first. When she used to get her mind set on something she’d stick with it. The first failed attempt wouldn’t have meant anything to her. It was merely a hurdle that she could easily clear. And based on these journal entries, she had quickly devised a new plan without hesitation. I just wish there had been some way to convince her that she didn’t have to stick with her plan for once; some way to reassure her that we did care. We cared more than just on the surface like she thought.
I feel like I miss her more and more from one day to the next. The smallest things in life remind me of her. Walking past the old barn near our house reminds me of childhood games we played in it. Hide and seek, cowboys and robbers, duck duck goose, just to name a few. Entering Starbucks I see us sitting where we sat every day after school, for an entire semester, as she tutored me in math so I could pass my class. Watching the kid’s lace up at the ice rink, I envision the first time she brought me to skate. I fell down so many times I was a walking bruise. I whined and complained. But she always helped me up and we started again despite my complaints. I wake up for a midnight snack and sit alone at the counter these days, an empty stool besides me as I drink my hot chocolate in silence. I miss the heart to hearts we had. She was the best big sister anyone could ask for.
Time heals all wounds they say. But I know there will always be times that I search for her to tell her my latest big news. There will be the momentous events in my life where I will want her at my side. My children will never know their aunt, and they will never have cousins. A stocking will always hang empty at Christmas, a place setting never filled. The grief will follow me every day. But I am hoping that the day I can finally laugh at a memory of her, will come soon. I’m hoping, one day, the picture I see of her will be full of life, smiles, and love.
