What is the appropriate way to do this?
Shall I slit my wrists and watch the blood flow out of my veins until life itself seeps out from my very heart?
Shall I hang myself like they do in the movies? Where shall I purchase a noose without suspicion?
Pills! I would take a bottle of pills.
No. Pills won’t do. For seeing that as I hate pills, I have not the sufficient quantity lying around to carry out this staggering task.
What then shall I do? I have given up on myself. My heart is heavy with pain and regret. My dreams are filled with screams. My head aches with anger. The voices are too loud. I can’t seem to breathe!
This idea of self-murder seems so fiendish and yet somehow appealing. The Devils sing about it day and night. “Do it, do it,” they say, “We are waiting for you.” But I don’t want to join them. Why can’t they just leave me alone?
I pick up my kitchen knife but it is too blunt to cut my skin. It can’t even cut vegetables! I throw the bloody thing away and I search for a blade. Why don’t I have a blade? Rubbish. For someone so intent on suicide, I sure kept sharp objects at bay. I didn’t just conceive of this. I mean I should have planned for this act. I plan everything. Or maybe not. Whatever. I don’t care. I shall do this today. So I keep searching. Then I find something, three things actually. Sharp pointy things. I never used them before. They look really sharp. I hold one to the light and see it gleaming. “Do it. What are you waiting for?” says the slithering voice in my head. And then I press it against my wrist. It feels cold. Maybe that’s what Death feels like. Cold. Not unlike the voices in my head, gloating and snickering, reiterating how worthless I am. I try to slice it against my skin. My skin swells. I slice a longer, deeper line. It hurts. My skin swells, tracing along the line I drew. There is no blood. Why is there no blood?!! What do I have to do to cut deeper? This is harder than I thought. The pointy thing is not as sharp as I thought. Argh!
I fall on my bed with tears welling up in my eyes. What is wrong with me? I don’t want this. I think about all the people I love and how the voices in my head tell me I would be doing them a favour if I just left and never came back. Maybe they are right. I can’t be sure. I heave a deep sigh. My chest really does hurt.
Then out of the corner of my eye I see the blade. A really sharp one. Wedged in between my bed and the all. I can’t even remember what I got it for in the first place. The Devils really mean business today. “Do IT!!!!” they scream at me this time. I should have done it. But I could not. I just stared at the blade, shaking. The Devils are snickering again and they are calling me a coward. Maybe I am a coward. But I don’t want to join them there. It’s bad enough being with them here.
I close my eyes. I am tired. I muster what is left of my strength and scream, “Leave Me Alone!”
They cackle, like they usually do, but quieter this time and they whisper, “Not yet.”