The Selfish “S” in suicide

I couldn’t let you go, I wouldn’t at all. I didn’t want to. No I could not let it happen. Despite the baggage I had, despite the hidden person in me. How could I, everybody would know the baggage I have in me. What I have held inside for long would finally come to light. Then I would be what I fear most “The Villain”, despite the numerous attempts I had made to make it all right.

But I had to let go, how I could hold back when everyone else wanted you gone, was a puzzle. I wasn’t sure of what I wanted to do. I didn’t know whether it was good, neither for me nor for anyone else that I had encountered in my life. I knew it would hurt, at least for me, I don’t know whether it would anyone else but I guess I cared less either. Did it matter anyway at this point? I guess it didn’t at all. All forces seemed to be against my efforts, I don’t know who or what to blame anymore. I really wanted to understand but how could I when no one understood me at all.

It was beyond me, all I could do was blame, I know I had fault but I had to find all ways to pull you in, to make you see you were also part of all this. I tried to get into every activity that could distract me from it but seemingly none sufficed. After all that I had to pull off my clothes when the night came and with that I was forced to see the scarred skin that characterized me. Scars, which only a close to impossible plastic surgery would clear, Scars which you couldn’t live with, scars that you claimed unless worked on you would erase me like a pencil mark on a white paper.

So there you were, gone. Miles away and I couldn’t wait for what you would come back with. I knew you were coming back, that I had no doubt about. Where else would you go to? This is where you belong, this is where all you had was but what you’d come back with for me was worrying. I didn’t want the whole society to know of that which lay inside. Them I hoped would be of help seemed not to care at all. How could they not even be there when I went for joyous occasions, they couldn’t even show face when my skin burnt to this ugly hide-like covering.

So I cared less, it didn’t matter to me then. It isn’t a coincidence that in selfish and suicide lies an “S” and yeah I knew it would be selfish but nothing mattered to me at this point. But at least I told you, I wanted you to go to bed well knowing that tomorrow was like the 23rd of December 2012 on the Mayan calendar. And so I picked the knife and plunged it in my tummy and no….it wasn’t enough, I pulled it down but I still was strong enough to pull it out and give it a fresh strike………..!


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