It was cold today. The kind of piercing cold day that sinks right through your clothes, deep into your skin. Into your heart. The kind of despairingly cold day that you feel miserable just for the sake of feeling miserable. Because feeling miserable is what everyone else is doing on a day like this. I was no different. In fact, I was probably worse. I’ve been feeling miserable on the best of days lately and this blistering cold just made it worse.

I walked glumly down the street, needing to get of the house for a while. A few steps out the door and I was already regretting my decision. I couldn’t turn back now, though. My stupid family would probably make fun. Call me weak. A sack of potatoes with no willpower or determination to do what was said would be done. It wasn’t just the wind that made me shudder anymore, but the anger at the thought of my mother, smug inside the square brick building, my faithfully evil sister tending to her every will. Joining in with her harsh, snarling laughter at even the weakest of jokes that I was the punch line of. I glared at the ground, as if it had caused all my problems. It didn’t seem to care much so I shifted my gaze to the overcast sky. It seems god was ignoring me too. Not that I’ve ever felt the need to talk to a creation of a power hungry man from over two thousand years ago. He was just something else to be mad at.

I rounded the corner at the end of the street, receiving a gust of wind that shredded through my feeble barriers of a thin jumper and trackiedacks. Anger was no match for this piercing cold so I went along with it and feel into depression. Again. Not that I ever really came out of depression, there were just varying levels of hopelessness that intruded upon my thoughts. I never really tried to block them out, however. I find I like it when people feel sorry for me and depression is an easy way to make them. It was the only way for a fat, unattractive guy like me is ever going to get some attention. My morose mind didn’t dwell on the thought of attention for long, but immediately skipped to her. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse then this. Apparently, however, it was. As soon as her face filled my minds eye, my heart fell, along with my shoulders. Not to mention what little dignity I held was lost as a tear leaked from my dark brown, nearly black eye. Luckily enough, no one was watching.

She was why I was miserable. The only reason. I could deal with the rest but not her. I couldn’t even talk to her, couldn’t string a complete sentence together while her eyes were on me, couldn’t think straight while I was intoxicated with her scent. I was as easy prey as they come whenever I was around her. How easy it would be for her to abuse me. To scorn me and mock me. To hate me as my family does. But she doesn’t, and that makes it even worse. I wanted to tell her how I felt, but was afraid at how it’d be seen. I know I was considered a pervert even though I hadn’t given any reason for them to believe so. It’s just because I’m fat, and ugly. And lonely. I knew my telling her would only worsen my undeserved reputation. Hell, maybe I should be a pervert. I’d gathered my resolve, however, my courage, and left a message for her with her friends. Of course they’d read it and think disgusting thoughts, but I didn’t care as I trudged down the street.

It was cold today. The kind of despairingly cold day that you feel miserable just for the sake of feeling miserable. The kind of piercing cold day that sinks right through your clothes, deep into your skin. Into your heart.

I’m glad I packed the rope. I could already see the small gully filled with trees calling me from just around the corner.

It was cold today.

A perfect day to die.