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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Can chocolates save a life ?

Submitted: July 01, 2017

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Submitted: July 01, 2017



This is it. The day I have been waiting for has finally arrived. The instant I woke up from a dream I barely even remember, I already knew what day it was. Sitting up on my bed, still groggy from the little sleep I've had, the view of the calendar immediately greeted my still half closed eyes. It was hanging on the wall, facing directly as if taunting me. If it had a face, I would say it was grinning at me right now. The mark that I made prior to this day looked ominous, a big X on the number 31. That's right, today is March 31, 2017. A day I was far more excited for than my own birthday. After all, this is the day I finally say goodbye to my miserable life. The day I kill myself.

The trip from my bed towards the door was more difficult than I expected. Besides my legs seemingly refusing my order to move, everything around me felt like whirling. Is this how the sun always felt like? With the planets rotating and revolving around it, nonstop. It's as if I'm riding a carousel, but ten times its original speed. God, I feel dizzy. I really thought I've gotten used to this for the last few months, but my gut wasn't having any of it. I quickly ran to the toilet and spew the contents of my stomach. I took a glance at the mess I made and instantly regret it. All of it looked like a mix of food and death. Disgusting. Just what did I eat last night for it to get this awful? After flushing the toilet, I washed my mouth just to get rid of the taste which was as bad as how it looked. Like death just finished making out with me. I felt a bit relieved as I walked straight into the kitchen to look for food, just to fill my insides even just a little. But unsurprisingly, there was nothing. Fridge? Nothing. Dining table? Nothing. Not even a crumb. Fine, I wasn't that hungry anyway. And besides, I'm already used to this. Where's mom by the way? Maybe she had already left for work, no use calling her now. So I just sat down and made myself a cup of coffee. The only thing I'm proud of being good at.

Coffee. Just hearing that word makes me feel comfortable. If cars had fuel then I had coffee. Without it, I probably wouldn't survive the day. Imagine yourself walking peacefully, and then suddenly you just faint and slam your body into the pavement. That's what I think would happen to me if I don't have coffee in the morning. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt, but it already does so no matter. Anyway, back to coffee, there's just something about it that I can't explain through words. Is it the warmth? Or is it the taste? I don't know. I just love it. I wouldn't be talking about all these if I don't. If I had to compare it to something, it would be a warm hug. One cup of coffee is equal to one warm hug.

I'm overthinking little things again. I don't mind though. Thoughts are my friends. Thinking makes me feel alive. That I exist. The cup felt cold against my lips as if in contrast with the warm liquid inside it. I savored its taste as the coffee embraced my tongue and slowly fell straight into my throat until nothing was left.


Tastes like me, I guess.

My footsteps sounded heavy in the quiet house as I made my way towards my room. The floor felt cold against my feet without my slippers on. I didn't know why, but I was unusually tired today. I realized I woke up too early after checking my class schedule for today. I still had two hours left before my first class. I guess I'll just check if everything is ready for tonight. The crisp paper rested carefully on my hand as I thoroughly read its content. My suicide note seemed to be fine, after all, I've been writing it secretly since the start of the month. My favorite shirt which I folded the night before was lying still at the foot of my bed. It was nothing special, just a plain black shirt, though I still liked it. In another paper on my left hand, was a list of things I wanted to happen after I die. One is to have my organs donated to people who need it, just to make me feel that I'm not useless. Another is to have my casket closed at my funeral, I don't want anyone seeing me lifeless. I have other things listed but it's not as important as what I've already mentioned. With this I am ready. At least that's what I thought.

All these thoughts about death made me suddenly remember my father. He was a kind man, always happy, unlike me. Maybe that was the reason why he was taken too early, because he didn't deserve this world's wrath. He died two years ago, heart attack. It was a quick death, he was already gone by the time we arrived at the hospital. Normally, a person would be sad if such a thing happened. Of course I was sad, it was the first time in my life I cried so much. Maybe it was even the start of my breakdown. Even until now I can still feel it, the sadness, the emptiness. But not just because I missed him, but because it wasn't me. I wish it was me. Lucky guy. Since then my mother has been the only one taking care and providing my needs. I feel bad for her. For having such a useless and good for nothing son like me.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that the moment I laid my eyes on the clock, it was already 8:15 AM. 45 minutes before my first class. I hastily changed my clothes and ran at full speed to the bus stop. And I waited. If there was one thing I hated, it was waiting. I don't have that much patience after all. Luckily, the bus arrived before I even got the chance to get infuriated. I walked in and into the farthest part at the back, where nobody bothered to sit. I sat down and observed the people inside the bus with me.

On the left side were two girls that talked loudly as if they're the only people around. At the right side was an old lady that complained about how uncomfortable the seat was. While at her back was a kid with an arrogant look on his face. There was something about each person here that pissed me off. I wanted to kill each of them in different ways. No. I wanted this bus to crash so that we could all die a gruesome death together. That way my mom would be given insurance by the bus company or something. My death would not be in vain then. I couldn't help but smile a little at that stupid thought.

When it was finally time to get off, I took the opportunity of the small exit of the bus to bump each of them on purpose. I couldn't resist. They annoyed me. I thought I heard someone curse at me behind my back, but I didn't mind. I just kept walking until I finally reached the gateway to the place that I've gotten sick of looking at. School.

If I had the power to go back in time, I would beat up whoever it is that started school. Seriously, what even is school? I mean I could just study whatever I want at home and become great at it. I could learn more alone than with strangers I don't even care about. More than a decade of your life is wasted just for what? A piece of paper so that you can get a job? Now that's just nonsensical. What an imbecilic society we have. If you really think about it, there are really idiotic rules and customs made up by this so called society. And people are just as stupid as to follow and believe these rules. But I guess we really don't have a choice. After all if you disobey, you face the consequences of your actions, which is not good. If you disobey, people will judge you, they will look at you like some kind of maniac. Even though you are right and they are wrong, in the end, you are still alone, it will be you versus millions of people belonging to society. You will only lose. So why give effort if all these efforts will only be wasted? Just face it, you are nothing in this world, just a speck of dust in the galaxy, a little bird in the flock, a weak wolf in the pack. In the end we will all just die and be forgotten. Death is the only thing in this world that's fair, nobody can escape it.

The walk from the entrance to the school building I was supposed to be in was rather short, but my legs still hurt. Maybe it was because of all the running I did earlier. I just shrugged it off, thinking this will be my last day here anyway. The whole class I did nothing except sleeping and goofing off. If I am not allowed to kill people, then I could at least kill time. It became like this ever since I failed two of my subjects. I even did my best back then. But it was just too much. The projects, the exams. It came at me all at once, like a huge wave. I tried to fight back. I struggled and struggled. But despite all my efforts, I still couldn't reach the surface. Little by little, it suffocated me. Until I finally drowned. It was an awful experience. Right now I just want to forget all about it.

Finally we were dismissed, and I hurriedly went to the cafeteria because I could have sworn my stomach was already screaming at me. I looked at all the food displayed but it seemed like my mind isn't interested at all. Though each of the food displayed was a different color, shape, and smell, they all looked the same to me, so I just chose the cheapest one, a hot dog. It was warm in my hands, but the moment I took a bite of it, it became cold in my mouth. I do not know why but every food I eat no matter how warm feels cold in my mouth. And everything tastes nothing. If I had to describe it, it's like I'm chewing on solidified water, which is technically ice, but softer and not as cold. I wasn't even finished eating but I could feel it again, my stomach. There it is again, telling me to run to the nearest toilet. So I did as what it said and all the food I just ate came rushing out of my mouth.


I thought you were hungry?

Why would you reject it?

Fucking stomach.

Eating was like playing one on one football with my stomach, with it being the goalkeeper. If I'm lucky enough the food will go in but if I'm not, which happens all the time, it will come back rushing out, more disgusting than before.

The tap water I washed my hands with was cold. Why does everything have to be cold? While wiping the water from my hands, I accidentally saw myself in the mirror.

Damn, I look like my own puke.

Was I always this pale?

Was I always this thin ?

I feel sick.

I had two choices. Go to my next class, or go home and sleep. I chose the latter.

While walking, I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. I already knew who it was before I even looked beside me.

"Going home already?" A familiar voice said.

You again?

"Yeah," I replied.

"I thought you still had classes in the afternoon?"

This isn't that bad, I guess. I'll just go along just to kill time.

"I don't feel like going. What about you?"

"Oh, we're already done for today. Don't mind me, what about you? Are you feeling alright?"


Our conversations always started like this. We always talked about the same things. School, events, family. Just the normal things you talk about with a friend. Was she a friend? I think so.

I met her at a crosswalk. That time I was waiting for the light to turn red when she just came running out of nowhere. I quickly grabbed her backpack, pulled her back, and pointed at the still green light.

"Thanks." She said.

I didn't utter a single word to her or even look at her direction. I just ignored her. But she just started talking to me ever since. I wonder why? We were the exact opposites, maybe charge interactions also applied to people.

Looking at her now, she still had the same features as back then. Short black hair, pale skin, eyes that looked clueless, like the eyes you often see on children, a small mouth that never stopped talking. I always went along with what she wanted to talk about. Somehow I always forgot my feelings when I talked to her, even for a short time. I don't talk to her about myself though, I don't want other people involved in my own problems. I prefer to keep everything to myself.

There were times in the past when I talked to other people about what I felt. But I gave up after I got sick of the same answer they all handed out to me.

"Just be positive."

I don't even know how to be positive. I'd rather expect the worst, than cling to false hope. Because when the time comes the worst result happens, you will no longer feel despair, you already expected it after all. But when the best result happens, you will be surprised. I like being surprised.

"Be positive."

They can say that because good things keep coming their way. But when its their turn to be played by life, only then will they understand, how people like me feel. That's right, they just don't understand. But someday they will. And all I can do is to wish them luck.



Oh right, I forgot I was still with her

"Are you even listening?"

"Yeah. You'll be going that way right?"

"I'm surprised you remember. Goodbye!" She said with a cheerful voice. It sounded so blissful that it almost made me shudder.

"Yeah," I replied, accompanied by an obviously fake smile.

I was so tired I couldn't remember how I got home. I didn't even bother to remember. I just went straight into my room and jumped right into my bed. The moment my body touched the soft mattress, almost instantly, I fell asleep.

Dawn and dusk had the same atmosphere that it was hard to distinguish the difference. Rays of faint light from my bedroom window gave off the sign that the sun was no longer in sight. Looking at the clock caused me to have a sudden rush of tension, that my lethargic state instantly disappeared. I was fully awake. Hunger and thirst were going through my mind but I knew I didn't have the time. I needed to prepare.

By the time I left the house, mom still hadn't arrived. Outside, it was dark and cold, very cold. Perfect for the occasion. The walk was like a normal morning stroll, except it was dark and I was shivering. Thinking back, I should've brought my sweater with me. Shit. My clothes weren't helping too, it was no different than wearing nothing. Plain black shirt, loose jeans, old snickers. I thought I almost looked like the broke version of the grim reaper.

The silence was eerie. It was so quiet that my footsteps sounded like gunshots. And although I've already heard the sound of cars a thousand times before, the moment they blow past me, they get so loud my ears hurt. The unbearable silence made me think that the world was watching me. Just eyeing my every move, never saying a word. It made me feel uncomfortable.

I focused on my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. But my breathing annoyed me. It reminded me of my life.

So I just tried to forget about it and looked around to distract myself from the uneasiness. But there's nothing new. To my left, houses. To my right, more houses. I just continued walking and passed by some more places I always see again and again. Convenience store, bakery, more houses. But one thing that really bothered me until now was the people. People sleeping beside the road, on the cold concrete. How could they take this kind of weather? There are even children here, what the hell?

Seriously, what the hell is this world? I understand the adults, but the children? They know nothing about the world yet this kind of thing happens to them. For what reason? I don't understand. It sickened me. It sickened me so much I almost puked, but I held it in. I had no more food left, my stomach was empty.

All these horrible images made me think. I wish reincarnation was real. If it was real, I don't want to be reincarnated simply as a president, or a king, or a prime minister, I want to be reincarnated as God. If my wish ever came true, then I would be a God that trusts his people. I will use all the power I have to help, to aid, and to guide them. I will not be the God that only observes, but the God that acts. The God that never abandons.

A sudden flood of bright lights almost blinded me. Rows of street lights laid in front of me illuminating two huge metal arches facing each other. Cars swarmed in the middle and made all sorts of loud noises. The sound of honks and engines filled my ears, the heavy smell of smoke diffused with the air and made my head hurt. Beside the bridge were huge rocks blocking the bright, almost blinding lights, and the deafening sound of cars. Here is where I sat, admiring the celestial panorama before me.

I was almost certain that the water below stared me back. The lights from the endless rows of skyscrapers reflected from it looked like eyes from above. It was soothing, calming. Even now I'm still amazed that a view like this existed in this place. It was beautiful, inviting. I can almost hear it speak to me, "Come, be at peace."

That's right. Enough sightseeing. You came here for a reason right?

I stood up.

I looked at the view for one last time.

This isn't bad, being the last view I will ever see.

And then I closed my eyes.

Again it was still. All the sounds I was hearing before were slowly fading away. Then nothing. Only silence. I took a step forward, then another. For every step I made, it felt like gravity was gradually getting stronger. My heart was beating so fast like it was hammering its way outside my chest. I breath hard. My mind was pulsating, cold sweat dripped down my cheeks. My mind was going blank. My whole body was shaking.

Only a little more to go, and it will finally end.

All the suffering, the emptiness, the sadness will finally go away.

Goodby -

"What are you doing?"

The tiny voice behind me startled me so bad I almost jumped. I opened my eyes and looked down.

Holy shit

I was only inches away from my death.

I immediately fell to the ground and moved backward as fast as I can. My hands grabbing the dirt as if my life depended on it, which it really did. My whole body was still shaking. I heaved and gasped for air. It felt like I was an asthma patient that just finished a worldwide marathon. And I was so sure about dying earlier too. Yet here I am sitting down, so afraid of it.


After I calmed down a bit, I turned around, only to find a pair of tiny bare feet. I moved my sight upwards and there, looking down at me, was a little girl. She wore a loose white shirt that looked gray with all the dirt. Her cheeks were covered with tiny lines of grease like the whiskers of a cat. Her eyes staring at me with utmost curiosity. Long messy hair that extended to her waist.

"What are you doing?" She asked again. There was something in her voice that sent a chill down my spine.

I couldn't answer. My mind was too occupied to answer.

"Mama said it's dangerous to play here."

Again, I just stared at her, dumbfounded.

It could've been my imagination, but I swear her expression changed a bit, I couldn't read what she was thinking.

"Do you want to die?"

What. The. Hell.

As if she hadn't shocked me enough already, then she asks me this.

I was completely taken aback. My body was frozen in place. I couldn't find the words to say. Words betrayed me.

"W-What?" Was all my mind managed to say.

"Mama has the same look as you when we don't find food. When she's asleep, she says she wants to die over and over again until I wake her up." She said, with a bit of sadness in her voice.

My confused state was suddenly replaced with sadness. Must be because of what she just said, or because of the look in her eyes right now.

"Why do you want to die?" She asked again.

Why do you want to die?

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

That single word played repeatedly in my mind that it had lost its meaning.

What was the definition of die again?

To pass from physical life. to pass out of existence.

"Do you always eat food?" She asked.

"Yes," I replied mindlessly.

"Do you have a place to sleep?"


"Then why?"


That question hit me like a truck.

Why do I want to die?

Because I was depressed? Because I was tired? Because I was empty? Because I was sad? Can these things even be called reasons?

People want to die because of other, more miserable things. Because they don't have food for the day. Because they don't have a place to sleep. Me? I had everything. I could eat anything I want. I had shelter. I had a friend. I had a family. I just took all of these things for granted. I never recognized how special these things were. How lucky I was.

I looked down on her shirt and how dirty it was. Then compared it to mine which looked neat. It was the first time in my life I felt this much ashamed.

"I forgot. I forgot what my reason was." I said.


"Hey," I said, "Thank you."

"I don't get you." She replied with a puzzled expression.

"Say, if I can grant you a wish, what would it be?"

"Chocolates!" she shouted. "I want chocolates!"

"Okay, then I'll give you chocolates. I'll give you more chocolate than you could ever imagine"

"Promise?" Her eyes brightened up.

"I promise."

Then she held out her pinky finger, and I already knew what it meant.

"Mama taught me this. She told me it was called a pinky promise. She said it was the most sacred of vows. I didn't understand what she meant." She let out a little chuckle.

"You'll understand someday."

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

And then she gave me a big smile. I didn't know why but it made feel better. I smiled back, only this time it was genuine.

What was this feeling called again?

Oh, I remember now.

Before going home, I asked her one last question.

"What makes you happy?"

"Playing! Eating! Seeing Mama happy!"

"Okay. Now go back to your mom, I'm sure she's already worried about you."


I watched her as she walked away. Skipping while shouting 'chocolates' repeatedly.

I think I understand it a bit now, happiness.

I went home defeated. Usually, when people fail they feel sad. I felt the opposite.

The first thing I saw was food on the table together with a note beside it.

"I'm so sorry I forgot to make you breakfast earlier. I was already late for work and was in a rush. Anyway, eat up, I know you're already hungry. -Mom"

It was an omelette . She used to make this for me when I was a child.

I quickly grabbed the spoon without thinking and started eating it. Delicious. It was delicious and nostalgic at the same time. It was at this moment that I couldn't hold it in anymore. I had been holding it back since I was talking with that kid. Tears started falling from my eyes. It was hard to swallow while crying. If somebody was to see me right now, they would probably think I'm a weirdo. Imagine seeing a guy, eating and crying at the same time. It wasn't stopping too, believe me, I tried. Maybe my eyes were waiting for this moment. Maybe my tears have been pent-up for too long.

The omelette was so good, my stomach didn't reject it. So my stomach had good taste too. Maybe mom's cooking had cured me. It made me taste food again, my gut didn't reject it, and oh, I almost forgot, it was warm.

I wiped the tears away and went into her room. I wanted to say thanks, and apologize.

The lights were still on. I guess she was so exhausted she forgot to turn it off. She was already fast asleep. This was the first time I've seen her so close. And that's when I saw it. The dark lines beneath her eyes, the wrinkles on her forehead, the tired look on her face.

I clenched my fist s . "Thank you, mom. And I'm sorry, I really am." I whispered.

I kissed her forehead, pulled her blanket up, and turned off the lights. This is the least I can do for now. I got out before I started crying again.

The first thing I saw in my room was the calendar, suicide note, and the list. All pinned together on the wall. I grabbed all of it off and ripped it to shreds. Then I got out a piece of paper from my bag. This time I wrote my reasons to live.

To take care of my mom. To talk to my friend. To buy chocolates for that little girl. To help people in need.

The last one was going to be hard. But I knew I could do it. I tried to be positive. Just this once. If I couldn't be God, then I could at least help them. I pinned the paper on the wall, directly in front of my bed. So that I would see it every time I woke up.

And then I laid down on my bed. I didn't know why but I felt the need to apologize to the world.

"I'm sorry, world." I whispered.

What a day.

The bed was warm against my body. That night, the first time after so many nights, I felt not only happy but contented.

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