The End? The End.

Dear My 15-Year-Old Self,

You are attempting suicide for the first time today. I don't remember clearly why, but I'm pretty sure it's for a reason very petty (no need to get indignant at this, your excuse is definitely pettier than any I have now). Also, you're gonna fail. You're gonna chicken out and you're gonna be glad that you did, because you'll soon realize that it in fact, was a petty reason indeed. You're gonna be happy for a while, noticing and appreciating all the things and people that you would've missed out on if your attempt hadn't been an epic fail.

But one year rolls by, and soon enough, you will find yourself making an attempt to hold onto those very things and people who gave you a reason to live. You will have to keep reminding yourself that nothing ('NOTHING!' you will fiercely repeat in your head) is worth giving up on all those people and all those things that matter, and neither is anything worth to let go of the daydreams about the various first experiences you're yet to have. But guess what? Those attempts shall soon turn into a full-fledged struggle, an all out war between the part of you that wants to live and the part that wants to give up.
You will realize the latter has won when you find yourself holding 13 Flexon tablets (500mg paracetamol each). You will swallow them one by one, as quickly as you can so as to avoid any second thoughts that might surface, and you would almost tell yourself to slow down in fear of choking on the tabs, before you realize with dry humor why you're taking the tabs in the first place. You're gonna be glad (and a bit nauseous) when you swallow all the thirteen tablets, thinking that it will finally be all over. But hopes only lead to disappointments, you shall realize a few hours later as you crouch over the sink, vomiting out all the poison. You're gonna hate yourself and you're gonna hate your life. But what do you know?

A couple of years later, you will finally be ready to accept that maybe it was for the best. You will have new people in your life, new things to look forward to, new (and way less fatal) methods to escape reality when it gets a little too grim. You will finally be what they call 'okay'. But know this, it gets worse. Yes, these new people will leave you. You're going to open up to them, you're going to expect them to stay and accept your broken self, and hope they love you as much as you love them. You're going to make amazing memories with these people and delude yourself into believing that what you have with these people is real. Reality checks hit hard, you will realize. The people you gave your heart out to will abandon you, they will let you down and they will let you go, no matter how much you beg them to stay. You're going to hurt yourself over this until you meet more people. You will then follow the same pattern. Foolishly trusting each new soul, pouring yours out to everybody you trust, carrying your heart out on your sleeve. You won't understand why everyone keeps leaving you when you're giving them your all. But that will be the very reason, as you will eventually know that all these people only took you for granted and left when you tried to confront them about it. You will be in a mess trying to understand how to change yourself. You would want to stop letting people hurt you like this, and no means of escapism will fix that. None except death.

And that's what I'm here to tell you. No matter how happy you will feel when your first suicide attempt fails, it will be nothing compared to the sadness that shadows me now. Yes, people will leave and yes, it's gonna suck. But you're going to be me, a complete mess for reasons more than just untrustworthy people. I have realized that no one will care-not even the ones who understand you or proclaim to love you-if I just left. I have come a long way from being you to being me, and trust me, the Internet will tell you it essentially gets better, but from what I see, it just has been a downhill tumble. I've suffered enough heartache and I've seen people go numb from it. I think I'm headed there, towards the numbness, the desolate void where no emotion can reach me any longer. The thought scares me. Fear is not one of the best emotions but it is one, nonetheless. And I will like to hold on to it and tons of other emotions for as long as I live. But what else to stop me from slipping into that void than the greatest leap? I'd rather die than be an empty shell.

And that's what I will do. Naive, young 15-year-old self, I tried to be mad at you for chickening out in  that first attempt. But these three years haven't been totally vain. I guess I should thank you for letting me experience all the things that gave me breaks from my Sad-Van trip. The final destination is supposed to be No-Feels Land and from here it looks like a scary place (guess Cowardice-and Disappointment-have been my only true companions). So I'm deciding I'll end my journey here. I got a few good bumps, but not enough to ensure I'll reach my Happy Place, if there ever was one. So with regrets and seemingly eternal sadness, I'll bid you my final goodbye.

Yours Depressed,
Finally Giving Up

Souled Out

He slid down with his back to the door as another tear escaped down his cheek. "Again. Again, again and fucking again!"
He threw his phone across the bed, his chat with Elaine still lit up on the screen.
How many times had he tried to keep people in his life? How many times has he tried to hold on when people just walked out on him?
He stood up and went to pick up the phone, going through the chat once more where she just blandly replies to his texts in monosyllables and then hits him with a, "I don't think our friendship is working out anymore" when he tried to talk to her about it.
His mind went back to all the times other people had similarly dropped him and left, saying he seemed to be too "attached" and "overwhelming". But he could see the attachment only showed when people started distancing themselves. He knew what was going on, he knew perfectly. People liked the newness of friendship, they liked to stick around as long as you were a mystery to them. But as soon as you open up, as soon as you let them in, they get to know you. And either you're too dynamic for them or it's too boring now that there's no "mystery element" left to you.
Oh how he now wished to be just like them. To easily give up on people and let 'em go when you've scraped through every part of them, or at least the amount you can handle.
But he couldn't do that. When he loved a person, he loved with all his heart. He gave all to a person and found them just as beautiful in the end as much as he did the first time he met them. And that's what led him to build expectations that people would stay and care and put in equal efforts, the very expectations that later broke his soul, bit by bit.
He was a wreck. He had always been a wreck. And maybe that's why people abandoned him. Maybe they were scared to come so close to a swirling mass of misery and sadness. That's why he kept it hidden. No one knew that under the jovial smile and the petty jokes was there a person so lost in sadness. But the few people he trusted, few people he wished to lean on, they left him on the ground, crying and kicking himself for making the same mistakes again. And again.
"...and again."
He looked at his phone once more. Elaine was just another name in the endless list of people who played a share in breaking him apart. True he was already an "anxiety case" but the people who walked out on him when he needed them were the ones who made sure he'd be so broken that he'd never be whole again.
He wanted to fix himself, but he didn't know what was wrong. He couldn't figure out, for the life of him, how could he manage to drive off all those people out of his life. He wanted to pick himself on his own, but till he was ready to do that, he needed someone to sit down next to him and hold him tight while he cried it out. He wanted someone to just let him vent and in the end, to tell him what's wrong with him. So that he could make himself right and make sure no one leaves again.
He looked down at the bright screen. Chat head read 'Elaine'. That name was just another addition to the long list of people who gave up on him, and for some reason, he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.
But till then, he would continue to love, and leave little pieces of himself in everyone he meets. Either they could come together and save him from his hell. Or, and more likely, he'd finally lose all of himself.
That would make it easier to just give up and leave it all behind for good.