Reasons Why You Shouldn't Kill Yourself

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 07, 2018

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Submitted: August 07, 2018

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Reasons why you shouldn't kill yourself: If you do, you'll never know the rush of happiness that runs over you when you find new music from your favourite band. You'll never feel the tears of happiness run down your cheek as you see your soon-to-be husband at the end of the aisle, tears in his eyes as he sees the most beautiful woman in the world, soon be his. You'll never witness the joy of having a family. You'll never see your son or daughter cry as they latch to your leg, not wanting to go to their first day of school. If you kill yourself, all the pain that you feel will cascade over your loved ones like the waves crash over the sand at high tide. Everyone you know will never see those beautiful eyes they've seen everyday, the one of a kind smile that could devoid any room of darkness. They will never feel the warmth of your embrace, or the sweet symphony of your voice. If you kill yourself, how will your best friends feel? they'll feel like every heart string they have has been brutally ripped from their heavy beating hearts, and thrown out like your last birthday's confetti. They'll just sit there and watch it fall to the ground and they'll stare at it with teary eyes, not knowing what to do, except watch the strings of their heart dissipate into the wind so that one day, as they're driving down the street you used to live on, they'll hear your name and, all at once, be flooded with emotions, just enough for them to stop the car in front of your house and cry the remainder of the pain and agony of living without you. The world may not know your name. Or your story. And I'll let them know, with every tear that runs down my cheek, every sob and piercing shriek that breaks the 2 am silence, every heartbeat screams out your name.

And I'll go see you, after you're lowered six feet under my feet, sadness filling my head, and my heart. My eyes, an ocean of salt water, my hands, clenched like vice grips, knuckles whiter than snow just like what covered your house only months before, holding back all the pain and anger of not getting there quickly enough to save you. I wish you had called me. I lie awake at night, in pain, every fiber of my being, inflamed with the agony of knowing I didn't slip your mind before you made the final decision to kill yourself.

Little do you know, in killing yourself, you killed me too.


© Copyright 2018 Matthew Behrens. All rights reserved.

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