underimpressing

I Almost Killed Myself Last Night

A story of a lost, estranged, bothered boy.

He finished the letter with a feeling of relief. A feeling of happiness and contentment. He is okay. He folds the letter gently. He sophisticatedly fold it evenly. Slowly. Carefully. He put it inside his left pocket. He stood up. Walk into the window and inhales the smell of the sleepy city night. Few cars passing. Cats running on the pavement like they owned the world. Lights flickers. Wind blows. He closes his eyes and took a deep breath. There is a strange emotion playing inside his head. Emotion of happiness and contentment. Emotion of readiness.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked down the street. The lonely street lay there peacefully. Waiting. Waiting for his body. Waiting for their unison. He’s happy. It’s weird, he thought. I should feel frightened, afraid. But he feels calm.

“Hey.” A man from down the street is calling him. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t notice the man standing down there before.

He felt his privacy was invaded. His moment was spoiled. But from five-floor distance, he somehow saw the man’s eyes seeing him. Knowing him. Is he someone familiar? Is he a friend? One thing sure he is. An intruder. He must felt annoyed. But somehow, looking back in this man’s eye, he felt an urge. The man’s eye is telling him they need to meet. They need to talk. To tell story. Why now? He closes his eyes and told himself that he needed to continue with his plan. If he stays there, I’ll go down. He gently open his calm eyes and the man is there. Standing as patient as the pavement. What does this man needs from him. Is he lost?

Doubtfully, he will meet the man. So he run to the elevator. He’s the only one awake. He checks the letter religiously. It’s there. It can wait. Just one more thing to do.

He found the man sitting on the stairs.

“Hey.” the man said casually.

“Hey.” he answered nonchalantly. He sat beside the man. The man didn’t look at him.

“You know what’s funny.” asked the man. He didn’t even let the boy answer.

“What’s funny is I saw you. And I feel the urge to know you. How strange that was?”

“Strange.” The boy said uninterestedly. This is useless. He regretted it. He’s about to leave when the man started talking again.

“There is this man. He was a Doctor. But an incident happened that took away his right to practice. He lost his job. All years of school and work. Gone. After a year his wife and daughter died. In a car accident. He was the one driving. He was selfish. He was drunk that night. His selfishness causes him to lose his lovely wife. And his … beautiful daughter. She’s precious. If you see her smile, all your worries and loneliness will go away. She’s an angel. He still hear her cute laughter. He thought he will lose it. All his sanity. He was alone. He was broken. Not in pieces but in ashes. He forgot how to laugh. He forgot how to hope. He forgot … how to live. He stray himself to the world. He stray himself from happiness. He just breath. Then he read a book. He read it over and over again. Until he felt each words running through his veins. The story speaks to him. The story saved him.”

“Boy … what is your story?” asked the man.

The man finally looked at the boy. The boy was crying. Hands covering his face. Hands covering his disappointment. Covering his weakness. Coward. He took the last courage he had and look back at the stranger. Eye to eye. Soul to soul. He wasn’t a stranger at all. He do not really know the man. It was actually the first time he saw the man. But the way he looks at him feels familiar. He feels like the man knew his story. He’s out of control. He continues to cry. He pull the letter out of his pocket. His jaw is clenching. His hands are shaking. His eyes are shining. He handed the letter to the stranger.

The boy knew there is no need to tell his story. Because he will write a new story. He started to breath heavily. He is like puppet. Being controlled. The puppeteer wanted him to close his eyes. He closes his eyes.

In a very long and silent moment; he reopened it. The man is gone. He disappears into the night. But the boy knows the man was never gone. He feels it. The man is not gone. And so is the boy. Really, the boy was found.

- Vin Landicho

Note: Suicide is a very important issue. Talk to people. You never know if someone needs saving. Your simple and genuine attention may save lives. :)