Sadness is a thing few ever wish to encounter. Sadness makes your head spin, forcing thoughts into your head you never wanted to think. Things you would never believe if you were in the right mind. Why is it that sadness and depression twists our minds into such a dark place? And do we ever have a chance of escape? How far does your mind go?
Coming home from work, all I could think about was how much a failure I was. I can't shake the image from my mind of a customer telling me I was a waste of space and I didn't deserve the job I'd been at for several years. I knew she didn't know anything about me, but she had only confirmed what had been going through my mind for as long as I can remember.
I had been fighting with suicidal thoughts for a while. I wasn't sure what had struck me first, the fact I had no life outside of my job, or that I never had anyone to turn to when the dark thoughts crept in. I despised feeling empty inside, but I hadn't a clue on how to being the change.
In a fit of sadness, I swam through ideas for suicide. The most obvious choice would be a gunshot. I had no access to a gun, so that was off the table. Perhaps I could jump off a building? No, there wasn't anything tall enough around me. Besides, I would hate for my death to be a public display. An overdose of pills? I scanned through my cabinets, fighting back the tears I was choking on. The only pills I had were practically harmless ones you could easily buy at the store.
That's when it hit me. I was reminded of the rat poison I had just below my sink. When I first moved in, there was a mouse infestation. I had to get rat poison bricks and a ton of traps. I'd gotten rid of them after a week or so, then I forgot about them completely. I still had the bag.
I opened the bag, considering eating a small, green brick. The inside of the bag smelled horrid. There's no way I could eat one straight on. Then, I remembered stories of people mixing it with food to make the process easier. Sure, it was all from movies, but real life couldn't be too far off, could it?
Looking in my fridge, I found an unopened up of potato salad and some pulled pork. A fitting last meal.
I took them out of the fridge, diced and crushed up as many rat poison blocks as I could, and sprinkled them throughout the food. I finally finished and put everything up. The last thing I'd want is for my family to find me and think it a suicide, though it was. I couldn't hurt them like that. After I put everything away, I heard a knock at the door. Was this a sign not to go through with it?
I put all the food in my fridge and hurried to answer the door. I wiped the tears from my face before I answered. It was my parents and siblings. What were they doing here? And why did they each have a dish of varying foods in their hands? What was the occasion?
I invited them inside. "What's the occasion?" I asked. "Is it my birthday or something?"
"It's Thanksgiving," my mom said, setting a crockpot on my dining room table. "Remember, you invited us over just last week?"
I remember now. It wasn't much of a surprise to me of forgetting, Thanksgiving is the one holiday people just kind of forget exists until like a week before. A holiday centered around food.
"I'm sorry, I completely forgot to make anything for it," I said.
"It's okay," my mom assured me. "You're letting us have it here, that in itself is enough."
I looked down and realized I was /still in my work uniform. I told them I needed to change and sped off to my room. As I got dressed, I could hear the chattering in the kitchen, as well as some laughter. I guess this was the sign I needed to stay alive just a little while longer. This encounter somewhat cheered me up and made me happy to be alive.
With a smile and a new found happiness, I made my way back to the kitchen. I found my family sitting around the table, plates out before them. The food smelled delicious. I could hardly wait to dig in. I took my seat next to my sister and we all dug in.
We sat and talked and laughed. It was great to finally spend time with people I knew cared about me as much as I did them. Then I took a bite of the potato salad. Why did it taste funny?
"Who brought the potato salad?" I asked.
"Oh, we found it in your fridge," my dad said. "Your mom said we should leave it alone, but it didn't feel like Thanksgiving without potato salad, so we took it. I hope you don't mind."
I looked around in horror as I saw my family scarfing it down as if there was nothing wrong. I realized there was nothing I could do to stop this. What would I say, 'I'm sorry I poisoned you.'? It didn't feel real. I took a couple extra scoops of the potato salad and scarfed it all down. I'm so sorry.
Coming home from work, all I could think about was how much a failure I was. I can't shake the image from my mind of a customer telling me I was a waste of space and I didn't deserve the job I'd been at for several years. I knew she didn't know anything about me, but she had only confirmed what had been going through my mind for as long as I can remember.
I had been fighting with suicidal thoughts for a while. I wasn't sure what had struck me first, the fact I had no life outside of my job, or that I never had anyone to turn to when the dark thoughts crept in. I despised feeling empty inside, but I hadn't a clue on how to being the change.
In a fit of sadness, I swam through ideas for suicide. The most obvious choice would be a gunshot. I had no access to a gun, so that was off the table. Perhaps I could jump off a building? No, there wasn't anything tall enough around me. Besides, I would hate for my death to be a public display. An overdose of pills? I scanned through my cabinets, fighting back the tears I was choking on. The only pills I had were practically harmless ones you could easily buy at the store.
That's when it hit me. I was reminded of the rat poison I had just below my sink. When I first moved in, there was a mouse infestation. I had to get rat poison bricks and a ton of traps. I'd gotten rid of them after a week or so, then I forgot about them completely. I still had the bag.
I opened the bag, considering eating a small, green brick. The inside of the bag smelled horrid. There's no way I could eat one straight on. Then, I remembered stories of people mixing it with food to make the process easier. Sure, it was all from movies, but real life couldn't be too far off, could it?
Looking in my fridge, I found an unopened up of potato salad and some pulled pork. A fitting last meal.
I took them out of the fridge, diced and crushed up as many rat poison blocks as I could, and sprinkled them throughout the food. I finally finished and put everything up. The last thing I'd want is for my family to find me and think it a suicide, though it was. I couldn't hurt them like that. After I put everything away, I heard a knock at the door. Was this a sign not to go through with it?
I put all the food in my fridge and hurried to answer the door. I wiped the tears from my face before I answered. It was my parents and siblings. What were they doing here? And why did they each have a dish of varying foods in their hands? What was the occasion?
I invited them inside. "What's the occasion?" I asked. "Is it my birthday or something?"
"It's Thanksgiving," my mom said, setting a crockpot on my dining room table. "Remember, you invited us over just last week?"
I remember now. It wasn't much of a surprise to me of forgetting, Thanksgiving is the one holiday people just kind of forget exists until like a week before. A holiday centered around food.
"I'm sorry, I completely forgot to make anything for it," I said.
"It's okay," my mom assured me. "You're letting us have it here, that in itself is enough."
I looked down and realized I was /still in my work uniform. I told them I needed to change and sped off to my room. As I got dressed, I could hear the chattering in the kitchen, as well as some laughter. I guess this was the sign I needed to stay alive just a little while longer. This encounter somewhat cheered me up and made me happy to be alive.
With a smile and a new found happiness, I made my way back to the kitchen. I found my family sitting around the table, plates out before them. The food smelled delicious. I could hardly wait to dig in. I took my seat next to my sister and we all dug in.
We sat and talked and laughed. It was great to finally spend time with people I knew cared about me as much as I did them. Then I took a bite of the potato salad. Why did it taste funny?
"Who brought the potato salad?" I asked.
"Oh, we found it in your fridge," my dad said. "Your mom said we should leave it alone, but it didn't feel like Thanksgiving without potato salad, so we took it. I hope you don't mind."
I looked around in horror as I saw my family scarfing it down as if there was nothing wrong. I realized there was nothing I could do to stop this. What would I say, 'I'm sorry I poisoned you.'? It didn't feel real. I took a couple extra scoops of the potato salad and scarfed it all down. I'm so sorry.
Comments
Post a Comment