My Opening Farewell

Who cares?! Nobody I know for sure.
He stuck another pin into his already bleeding arm ..... the blood spreading slowly across his skin, a low giggle escaped from his mouth.
The pain was real ... pure. It didn't judge him ... didn't hurt him ... didn't ask him to be anything. It liked him for who he was. He reveled in it... made himself feel alive, animated.
It complemented him ... added itself to who he was ... made him something more than himself ... made him larger than the pathetic life he was leading.
The blood was real, true. The scarlet against the wheat ... the contrast almost made him laugh and another low giggle escaped through his lips.
As daylight gave way to another evening and the stars began to peek around the corners of their nooks and crevices in the black velvet of the night ... he sat with a tiny bottle of the best whiskey he could afford ... a treat, gift for himself ... something he had always wanted to try ...
That tickles ...(snicker)
Another pin ... stuck with a trembling hand into an arm beginning to look like a pincushion.
The now familiar scarlet stain spreading onto his white shirt ...
Fuck! Mom's not going to be happy with that
He fell onto his side, laughing ... a maniacal laugh ... a sad laugh ... a laugh no teenager was supposed to laugh.
He reached into the small box of pins ...
That's convenient (giggle)
The blood spreading across his index finger ... a pin stuck in the tip.
A swig of whiskey ... a drop of blood ... a low chortle ... another pin ...
Teeth bared ... half smile ... half grimace.
Swaying, he got to his feet ... staring out to the horizon where the sun went to sleep ... losing its glory to a moon yet to show itself ...
Tears slid down his face as he surveyed his empire of dirt ...
Its yours ... all yours! Do with it as you will!
A child's drawing ... on the ground ...
A whole lot of squiggles ... three people in a green field ... a house with a red roof behind them
My mommy, My daddy and me in our new house ...
His eyes focussed, staring into the shining sun made with a yellow crayon ... she had tried to use orange and given up.
A maniacal laugh, muffled by the bottle touching his lips ... he fell to the ground, unable to keep himself upright any longer.
Ironical. It would do ... it would do well.
Unsteady hands reached into a coat that fit all too well ... the pen got stuck in the silk lining ... pulled out with unnecessary force that tore it ...
Sorry Mom ...
laughter, loud and hoarse ...
The crowning piece in the small box ... a blade ... thin as a hair, sharp as a knife, light as a feather and as heavy as a mountain.
giggle ...
His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he concentrated on his wrist ... holding the blade against it.
A flick of the wrist...
He tries to repair his broken thoughts ...
The pen scraped against the paper ... "Goodbye, cruel worl" the 'L' dragged across to the end of the page ...

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World Suicide Prevention day is on 10th September.

8 comments:

Rize said...

Opening farewell!?!?!...nice caption...
and well written....'a flick of the wrist' and '"Goodbye, cruel worl" the 'L' dragged.....'
these two staments show the mental state of 'him'... as u said maniacal..

Anonymous said...

beautiful....almost heartbreakingly so...:)....crimson against the wheat?....great wrk adu...tragedy at its darkest best...

maria said...

hmmm ........ you're a good writer ........ I'm very impressed ...... I almost felt what he was going through ........ beautifully written :)

Sketcher said...

simply amazing!! That's the least I can say.
It's wierd that people decide to through life away when they face difficulties with the world. The world teaches us new things each day, some easy, some crazy. But just the way we don't bother much about those crazy lessons in school we should move on. That's when life is a blast.

El Furibundo said...

John Milton said:
"The mind is its own place, and in itself,
can make heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven."

THe very system built from generations of optimization,
coersion, abrasion... works well. for most people, at least.
Then there are the *not human* who are born. One in a million.
The same system serves to break them down. Squash their very existence.
In their moments of clarity, which, somehow are a sort of confused
clarity, self annihilation seems to be their Revenge. Succour. Deliverance.

Well written, good friend.

Stargazer said...

@Rize - Was actually a really old song. :-)
Somehow, maniacal isn't the word I would use to describe him. His laugh, absolutely ... but not him.

@Anonymous - Finally got enough time in between the presentations, I see. :-)
Blood against the skin. If you've seen something enough times, describing it becomes easy.

@Maria - Thanks. Almost isn't really good enough though. Will try to do better next time. :-)

@Sketcher - Even the crazy things should never be thrown away. We, of all people, should know that. :-)

@Furibundo - 'Everything's relative.' Somehow the lucidity with which we see things is marred by the very seminal event that brings it about. Cheers to those that are 'not human', they are the ones who stand out. I just hope that enough of them are strong enough to survive. To err is human. To lose is also human.
Thanks. :-)

Balu said...

scary

Rize said...

the more and more i listen to pink floyd, and come back to read ur posts, it magically changes the original understanding of this post