Suicide Note

I remember in no particular order- A garden, a green dress, the lyrics of a random song.  A feathery light relief fills my insides as I type this. I have heard that people see a snapshot of their life in their last moments. Maybe my snapshot only has a green dress and the garden. I always wondered why people wanted to die, to end themselves before time. It was always a question unanswered. Not anymore. They believe pain and suffering as the only cause behind death, but they ignore relief, the gratification of having given all that you were supposed to give, of having fulfilled all your goals and the beautiful emptiness that follows. Death, I now realise is not just about the end. It’s more like a conclusion. Like the end of a sentence- you put a full stop when you have conveyed all you wanted to.

My life has now completed its purpose. And as I sit here, feeling my veins drain out as I type, I feel happy. As happy as I felt when I first met her, as happy as when I saw her smile. As happy as I have ever been. It’s time to leave now, and I leave with no regrets. The world, as they say, is beautiful. More so because of you.

Shattered...and alone

He cried. Cried and thought. But thoughts were hard to come by. He didn’t know what was happening. Was he shocked? Or was he sad? Was he angry…or something else…he had no idea what he felt. He remembered one of his female friends once told him ‘Its heart wrenching to see a man crying.’ He so wished it was true. That somehow she would see his tears, that somehow his pain could wrench something inside her- he was ready for anything she would do- her mood swings, her speech barbs, he was even willing to be her toy all his life, if only…if only she gave him a chance. If not a chance, then at least give him his mistakes. He felt he at least deserved an explanation- a reason at least. She had occupied his days and nights for the last three years, coming to him as the sun comes to the earth and in doing so she had shown him an all new life. He was the night sky, and she became his moon. His saving grace, his complement.

He couldn’t believe it still. Somewhere his mind said that the mists would clear and things would be as perfect as they were. How could they not be with his angel beside him? But then, he needed the angel for perfecion. And the angel was not ‘his’ anymore. It was a simple phone conversation and when she said “we need to talk” he at first believed it was a prank but she sounded serious, dead serious. Only now he knew that whether it was a prank or not was something nobody would ever know. His angel was gone. Forever.