I remember I was along in the house. It was summer. I was going through a difficult time. Not that it was very serious taking into account my fairly young age. I was still in highschool. Still you never know what might have happened to me under slightly different circumstances. It was evening time and I was seated in my father’s study, though we also used that place as a second living room. I don't remember the atmossphere as very hard. On the contrary. I had a soft feeling inside. Suddenly I held a knife in my hand. I must have picked it from the kitchen, but I do not remember going to the kitchen. I was sitting down helding the knife in my right hand trying to move it towards my left wrist to cut the artery. There was a tension in the air so I could not come near. I was concentrated about the act for a while. I lost track of time so I don't know for how long time I was doing it, but I remember giving up. I could not cut myself. I have never tried again. I believe that I have gone through more difficulties later in my life and even more severe one’s but never again looked for death as a solution. I often thought about what happened that day in my parents house. Maybe the idea of taking my own life was purely intellectual. My girlfriend and I talked about being in the dark and falling into deep holes of nothingness.
My own experience gave my an understanding for other people’s decision of ending their life, but I realised that it was no solution for me. I have had a few friends that in specific periods of their lives have spoken about suicide, but it never seemed very serious so I was not scared that they would go through with it. I am sure that they meant it seriously at the time, but maybe it was more a cry for help or even just an act of dispair. One time I knew somebody that actually went through with trying to kill herself. She did not succeed. Another kitchen knife failed the mission. It is actually not so easy to cut yourself. The pills in her throat came up on the floor and she chose to make a telephone call. Everything appeared very prepared. She wrote letters to everybody. It does not seem real anymore, but it has marked me with a permament pain. The fear loosing the one I love and death itself has become so painful for me. I was strucked by lightening because I never thought that she could do it. For a long time I was terrified and kept on fearing that she would do it again. Every time I couldn’t get hold of her I would go into a state of insanity. There is specifically one time I remember, when she had gone to visit her parents out of town. I called her constantly for two days and was convinced that she must be dead. The only thing that could ease my mind was calling her again and again. I picked up the phone pressing her number. Waiting. For every time I heard the tone I got closer to explode in dispair. It is ringing. Waiting. After hanging up I am about to go crazy. I can only repeat my phone call. Sitting in my room in the corner as it gets darker outside. I can’t think. I am silent in a way that remind me of death. Coming too soon. It will be too late. Time elapses. She never tried to scare me again. During the years I even believed her, but I can never escape the fear that is inside me. It will stay. Mostly it does not talk to me but it will never die. Recently it has awakened rapidly and terrified my dreams and my bed became cold. I was back in the dark room with the phone calling another women to beg for her life. This time she told me and I didn’t remember the statistics. Do you kill yourself if you begin talking about it or is it the other way around? Now I know but can not reach out. We are not in touch. I keep telling myself that you can cry for help and I will save you, but why do you have to exclude me from your life. In my bed I cried and turned in every possible direction. I could not come to rest. What a price to pay for happiness just to vanish in front of my eyes. For several days I was struggling in my bed. Will she do it? I will never know.
Comments