Frankie's Suicide

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 05, 2017

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Submitted: November 05, 2017

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Frankie's Suicide (an account) 

"We remember him on his birthday, how fragile and weak he had gotten. I remember the neighbors getting together, trying to figure out what was now wrong with the once esteemed member of our community. Why DID he spend most of his time on the couch staring at the TV? Occasionally a neighbor would hear a woman's moan coming from the apartment, but we all knew he didn't have a girlfriend. So it must have been him just watching porn. But we did want to help him, even if he always shut us out. We tried to slowly get him out of his apartment, but nothing worked. He refused to speak to us. The only person he conversed with was the boy who brought him his groceries, and even that didn't go beyond formal greetings. So after trying for a while we all gave up. Not that we really spoke about it, but rather came to an unspoken agreement that as long as he got his food and groceries, he could live however the hell he wanted - it's not like he was hurting us by being a recluse. So then days went by like that without anyone trying to approach Frankie's apartment. Eventually we all forgot about him. I mean, there was no harm intended, it was just a sign of the times. It becomes almost impossible to care about the so-called 'depressive' episode of one single individual when there's news of death and destruction on TV, when you have to use every brain cell you have to come up with a lie to tell your kids that the news they see on said TV is just one side of the coin, that the world does have a good side too. When you have all that shit to worry about, people like Frankie just...fade away from your mind after a while. And it's not like we were too close to him anyways, but that's why it's so strange to me that the news of his death came as such a shock. It sent a tremor through our community. It's like now, we are aware of this lumbering figure looming over our homes, peering into our kitchens and living rooms, just ready to take our souls when our defenses are down. It was Frankie's suicide that opened our eyes to this threat. But that's not even the scary part - the scariest part is that this shadow, this....figure, has always been there, blending perfectly with the background. And now, thanks to Frankie, we have gained the insight to see it, but still don't know how to fight it. Its presence is so threatening and foreign that we are at a loss for words whenever we try to describe it. That's why we keep our mouths shut, pretending that everything is the same. But in reality, this figure is there, with us, part of us, and the only way to learn how to deal with it is to fucking acknowledge it first. I feel like that's what Frankie was trying to do, to communicate with us in his own way, but we ignored him. We failed our Frankie when all he tried to do was warn us against the dangers of this...darkness, this entity that we've been so naive to see. What happens when the darkness grows so large that it engulfs us all? It'll be too late by that point to communicate, but I guess we can at least die smiling, knowing that we protected our families from something they had no control over. But how are we so sure that we have no control over it? Have we even tried to fight it? Have we even tried to explain what it means to be miserable? Or are we too scared of misery? 'Nothing will change anyways', the cynics will say, 'so let's just laugh as we are all consumed by this ever growing darkness'. Meanwhile, the collective cry of humanity will forever remain trapped between the seams and cracks of tenement buildings, abandoned long ago even by those who had no home." 


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