It was hard to breathe. As if water was filling up in her lungs. It constricted her upper body, her arms scrunching up towards her face, her neck, her chest. She hoped that by holding herself with her arms, it will make the pain, dissipate. But it didn’t work. It wasn’t physically her lungs. It was her brain, her mind. And the mind is a lot harder to fix.
She couldn’t remember the last time her mind didn’t fail her. Her mind was dark and gloomy, as if a heavy fog was covering all the important, happy thoughts in her mind. She couldn’t see through this fog, she couldn’t wade through it. She needed more will power, but that will power was hard to come by, when your mind hates you.
She felt alone. No one understood what she was going through. No one could possibly empathise with her. She was always surrounded by people, family, friends, partners. But they were clueless to how she really felt. She tried to always have a smile on her face. She didn’t want people to worry about her. That was her job. To worry. She was a partner, a mother and the eldest in her family. She didn’t have time to think about how her emotions affected her. She had to push them to the back of her mind, and hope that it would disappear eventually.
The only problem with that was, that it became worse. Each day that goes by, her thoughts became darker, more sinister. Not dangerous to others, but very dangerous to herself. She was losing control. She was losing the battle. She would cry in her room everyday. Thinking about all the bad and sad things that have happened in her life. How bad she felt for her child, that he had a mother like her. She felt incompetent. She felt useless. She thought that he’d be better off without her. She loved him so dearly, but she didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the charade.
It was a hot day. She doesn’t like the heat, so she spends her time indoors. This day was a particularly hot day and her mind was swimming with thoughts and ideas. She wanted this to be the last time she felt like this.
She did what she usually does. She sat in her room, looking through old birthday cards, letters and memories. Nothing was different about her schedule. Except that this was the last time she’d do this. She poured her heart out over these memories, sat there, crying. Hurting. She looked at her child’s pictures. He was with his father for the weekend and she knew he wouldn’t be coming home. She kept reassuring herself that this was what’s best for him. It broke her heart to leave him behind, but she knew she had to. She didn’t want to bring him down into her darkness. He was such a happy, sweet little boy. He didn’t need this dark energy around him. She loved him more than anything in the world. She wrote him a letter. Telling him how much she adored him and that she hoped he would forgive her and not to worry because she would always be there with him and love him forever. She looked at the letter. Not entirely satisfied with it, but she couldn’t keep writing, her eyes were blurry with tears. She held the letter to her heart until she decided it was time. She put the letter in an envelope and wrote his name. Put it with a big teddy bear that she had gotten earlier. It wouldn’t suffice. It wouldn’t be enough, but she told herself it would. She couldn’t let her mind win today.
She walked outside her room, and looked down the corridor. She lived in a massive house. She walked into his room, and picked up all his toys and made his bed. She touched every single item of clothing in his closet. She picked out his favourite and laid them on his bed. She sprayed her perfume on them. She thought he could keep her smell with him always, knowing he always picks this set.
She walked down the corridor, looking at the hanging pictures. She wondered which picture was her last happy one. She couldn’t tell. No one could. She was so good at faking a smile, that, that has become her ‘real’ smile. Her mask. Her cover up of what she was really feeling.
She got to the kitchen. Her domain. Where they will most likely find her. She sat down, on the cold hard floor. She lifted her knees to her face and held them tight. She sat there for a while, rocking back and forth, crying. Wondering if she was doing the right thing. She tried to shake the uncertainty from her mind. She had already made up her mind. She was going to do this. It took her months to think of ways to do this. Minimum pain, and minimum mess for whoever found her. She researched and looked online and found numerous forums for people like her.
She found the perfect method. Overdose. She wasn’t going to make a mistake like some people do. She was planning on taking the whole bottle, hoping it would work quicker and less painful. She didn’t want the chance to survive. She wanted to be completely gone by the time her partner came home.
She got up. Got a glass of water. Took the water and her pills and sat back down. She opened the bottle, looked inside, and tried to figure if she could drink it all in one gulp. She took half of them out in her hand. She put it all in her mouth, took the water, and kept knocking them back. Then she did it to the other half. She didn’t feel anything at first. A few minutes passed, she started to feel drowsy. Started to get headspins. She could feel her lungs gasping for air. She thought this was it. This was how she was going to die. She hugged herself. Hoping it’ll help with minimising the pain. She lied down and curled herself into a ball. The pain was unbearable. Her life started to flash before her. She cried. She wanted to see her child’s face one more time. She wanted to see him, she wanted to hold him and hug him. She could feel herself disappearing, her mind going blank.
The last thing she thought of was how much she loved her child….and then it was black.
by m
mwrites 