Memoires Of A Suicidal Teenager – Part 2
I have no recollection of what happened after 2pm on that Monday, I slept deeply without a care in the world. For all I knew I was gone, dead, deceased!
Anyhow, I was done with it. What was the point in caring about a world and life that have turned their backs on me.
Suddenly, at around 10 minutes after 7 pm, just 5 hours after what seemed the best decision I had made, I was shouted at and shaken by my mother.
Jorge, get the hell out of bed and go to the corner shop, NOW.
Little did she know of what I had done. She was so blinded by her own “stuff”, that she didn’t even know I was on antidepressants, let alone that I had swallowed them all.
I would be lying if I said that coming round was easy, I was confused and startled, I didn’t know how long I had been out for, it seemed days if I am honest.
Though, the first thought that came to my mind was: crap! I didn’t succeed.
I can’t even do this right, I muttered to myself.
What do I have to do to get this life over with?
I can’t take this anymore. I want out, I don’t belong here, I am better off under the ground, rotting away and feeding the worms which seem to be of more value to humanity and I ever will.
In my confusion I left for the corner shop, I was floating in the air, I couldn’t feel my legs, I was totally numb.
I had a disgusting taste in my mouth of narcotics, it almost left as if I was a walking pharmacy, same smell, though the taste wasn’t as appealing.
Noone knew what I had done. That was my secret. The only witness I had was 8 years old only and he didn’t seem bother about anything. He cared more about our next door neighbour than anything else in the entire world.
I would take this to my grave, which would be real soon I said to myself. I am going to succeed no matter what, just wait and see, I will keep trying till I make it happen.
Upon arriving with the groceries, which to be honest I had no idea what I had gone for, nor how long I had gone for, nor do I remember any exchange of money, I couldn’t think straight.
Oh poop! I remembered that earlier that day (before I filled myself with courage to do what I did), I had given my word to a classmate that I would go to her house and give her a hand with some biology.
Everything seemed a blur and I did my best to “blag” it and help her understand the subject. I think I helped her somehow. Even, when deep down I was the one needing help the most. Though, I kept it to myself, that secret was mine, mine, mine and no one would make me talk, over my dead body only.
One thing I can say never changed, during this odyssey, was my love for food.
From very early on I was known for being a “foodie”, everyone knew that the way to my brain was through my stomach.
I am sure they called a “food prostitute” behind my back!
My classmate/neighbour made me a fried egg sandwich, to say it tasted like hell is an understatement, I couldn’t differentiate any flavours, everything tasted so disgusting, like a mixture of sewer, rubbish and chemicals all blended together!
Once I did my “good” deed, I left for my house, hoping to be murdered on my way back to my mother’s house.
I arrived in one piece, feeling worse than I did earlier in the day. My mother and I were barely speaking; my brother was caught in the middle of it all, his father had left a few months earlier, leaving him careless.
I went to bed praying, praying to God: if you are real take me now, I have had enough.
I went to bed praying, praying to Satan too: if you are real, take me, take my soul now, it is yours, no sacrifice required, I am volunteering it to you.
I cried myself to sleep, hoping, wishing, wanting to be gone forever.
Keep tuned in for more blogs about memoires of a suicidal teenager.
Till next time,