A Match Into Water: Realities in Polaroid Pictures

What is even my life all about? Why am I here? Why am I crying? Why am I feeling things? My life, not to mention the most trainwrecked life in the world, is ending any time today.

The trip to my therapist is always unpleasant. They tell you stuff, mostly motivational, and that's it. The best part of having therapy is when it's time to go home and either go back tomorrow or try doing what they're telling you to do throughout the hours of talking. I take my antidepressants constantly, wishing the pain would just go away. Sometimes it helps me ease the pain, sometimes it worsens me as a person. And that's when I start doing things that I'm not supposed to do. I couldn't even go on a day without self-harming such as cutting my wrists, or hit myself in the head. The simpliest yet the craziest stuffs a person could do, really.

So I just got home from being lectured by a therapist who doesn't even look like she's loving her job. I kind of relate to her because I don't love my life just as much as she despises hers, which is stuck in a building, helping kids with mental illnesses. My mom, at some point, is having one of her emotional moments where she sweats through her eyes. Some people call it crying, I call it unusual sweating. She says how much she's happy to see me recovering when the real thing is that I'm not even close to recovery. How can she not notice how much I'm suffering? Doesn't she know me too well? Doesn't she sees my real emotions right through my eyes? I don't even know anymore.

"Always be positive, okay?" She motivates and I kind of just nod to show respect. I make my way out of the car and carry my stuff with me. I don't even know if recovery is still possible in my case. I'm a total trainwreck and I'm trying to cope with it every single day.

I step inside the house and was greeted by my dad. He goes to a manly hug which I didn't expect to ever happen. He pulled away right after and flashed me a smile, a heart-warming smile but I was too numb to even appreciate it.

"Can I now step inside my room and take a rest? It's been a long day." I demand and weakly smiled at the both of them. Then while I was heading to my room, Tera, my 2-month old puppy popped out of nowhere and starts to smell my jeans. She's such a playful living thing. I picked her up and carried her all the way to my bedroom, where certain things constantly happen without my parents' notice. I plopped down on the edge of my bed, putting Tera down and letting her do whatever she wants.

I let out a heavy sigh as I compare my life to Tera's. What if I was just like her? She seems really carefree and doesn't complain about life, at all. She plays whatever she wants, whenever she wants. She doesn't seem to have any problems in her life. And here I am, staring at her, observing her every move. I wish my life's just like hers. I wish I was normal like anyone else. And there my depression starts to kick in again.

I spent hours inside the bathroom, staring myself at a mirror. All I could see is a boy, a sick boy. I rolled up my sleeves to expose my cuts that I constantly do every single night. I ran my index and middle fingers against my forearm as I examined myself in the mirror. For a moment, I thought I looked so creepy, but then I realized that this is me and this is who I am. I self-harm because it's the only way around. I can't commit suicide even if I want it to, I just couldn't find the guts to really do it. Maybe soon... or sooner.

After being alone, I got out of the bathroom and decided to locate my blade. I want to feel at peace. I want to feel the pleasant side of the world. Then I see Tera sleeping on top of my bed. Cute little snores escape from her mouth as I observe her. The little smirk she's doing makes my numb heart melt, but then I have to send her outside the room so she couldn't see what her friend's going to do with his life. I carry her in my arms and slowly drop her on the floor carpet outside the room. I immediately locked the door so no one could enter.

I rushed to the bedside table, opening one of the drawers. There I successfully locate my companion, still has blood stains from the last time we met. That night was painfully dark to even remember. I grabbed it and went straight inside the bathroom. Again, I take some time to stare at myself, my vague expression written all over my face. The sadness and depression are both plastered, which made me think again: Why can't they see right through me how much I'm suffocating? Sure, they're trying to help me, but let's face it, it'll never work. Therapists are dumb and they're useless.

The first try was a little painful, with blood rushing already. It was a little deep to be honest, and I was a little worried about what this would end up after. The second and third tries weren't that painful anymore, maybe because I was starting to feel my paradise. I did the routine for a good fifteen to twenty minutes. Just constant cuts, a few were located on my thighs, but some were still on my wrists. The satisfaction right after it has all been done isn't satisfaction at all. It's addicting, and the more you do it, the harder it is to let go. I cleaned right after, leaving the faucet open as I rolled up my sleeves higher. I let the water run through my forearm, washing away the blood. These are always entertaining. The blood that goes to the swirling corner of the sink until it slowly disappears, you kind of wonder where it'll all go. Are they finally going to see their paradise? Are they excited to feel the freedom? I want to know because I feel like I am trapped in this shrinking world while I see others feeling like there's nothing to worry about in their life. Tera and my blood are just a few of those, and they are, at some point, tearing me apart.

It was time for dinner and I had to step outside the room to show respect. I could hear mom calling me from downstairs. My fresh cuts are starting to feel a little more painful than I thought they would. I kind of regret how I did it this time, how deep I got into. Maybe I was just carrried by the current of feels, you know.

I walked pass dad while he reads his type of reading material every night. It's a 365 Days of Devotion or something, stuff that I don't bother caring about. I head to the dining area, making myself comfortable while food is being served. I could see my mom glancing at me while preparing dinner for her family. I just sit there, vague expressions are visible. I feel sorry for my mom honestly. I feel sorry for her to make such efforts for me because she's still hoping I'll be okay when I really couldn't. Her hopes are always plastered over her face and I just feel like it isn't fair for her to expect nothing. I don't want her to keep telling herself how her son will soon be fine because it clearly wouldn't happen. I know for sure it wouldn't happen.

"Derek. Dinner's ready." She calls out.

The dinner, as usual, has its dead air surrounding the atmosphere. Mom does all the talking while dad nods in response. Sometimes they would talk about businesses. This is like, one of the reasons why this family isn't working out for me, you know. All they seem to do is talk about stuff that I couldn't relate to. Yet, they pretend like they care about their sick suicidal son who can't put himself together into the right place. I know they care more about the company than they care about me, and sometimes it's cool to have it that way but sometimes, it just doesn't feel right. You want to get their attention, tell them straight to their faces how much you're suffering and how you would want to end things up instead because you never felt their love and care. That's where the wrong goes. The least they could do is send me to a therapist because they couldn't afford selling a day or two for the sake of their kid. They couldn't sell their time because they think the job is more important than I am.

"I'm going out for a walk. I'll be back later." I say. It wasn't asking for permission, it was simply just telling them what I'm about to do. Yet, I'm waiting for one of them to respond, hoping that they would let me.

"Don't you wanna take Tera with you?" Mom asks.

As if I would really, I shake my head in response and shut the door.

This is it. This is the moment that I've been waiting for. A few meters away from our house is a really peaceful beach to have a stroll. I decided that before I end my life, I'd like to able to see the beauty of this world, even though it is mostly covered with selfishness, cruelty and violence. The beach has a few cottages where some ended up being renovated and turned into restaurants and some were simply rest houses. I could see a couple having their own way of eating their meal for dinner. Lighted candles on top of the table and flowers. There's a lot of things to see that surrounds them, but what I like the most is the fact that they're taking things slowly and peacefully. The sincere smiles written over their faces has to be the highlight of their evening. I ended up walking my toes on the sand, carrying my pair of shoes with me as the sea water touches my naked feet. The illuminating full moon is just as stunning as the whole entire beach; its dark yet glowing atmosphere through the series of lighted candles makes it more beautiful.

I feel like I've had enough long walks for tonight. I came here because I want to end my pain. I came to this place because I want to see how the world could reform itself from being the worst habitat a living thing could ever live, to this; a very stunning scenario. Living isn't that bad, unless you're sick then that's something else. You've got to deal with stuffs that "healthy and normal" people don't deal or even think about. And that is just unfair.

I placed my shoes just beside the spot I've been standing. I removed my cardigan, in case my parents need any souvenir from me; a souvenir that would make them remember when and where and how I died. I took my first few steps, feeling the excitement rushing through my brain. I feel like I'm such a baby taking its first steps, heading towards the other end and hoping that someone's waiting. As for my case, I'm hoping to see both of my best friends, Corden and Mercury soon enough. I wish they're waiting for me as I head to the other end of my life. The wave's current is a little too strong for my frame to handle. Quite thankful about it though, so I wouldn't be putting too much hardwork on killing myself. I've had enough work in this entire existence and I'm sick of exerting effort on things.

"I'm coming for you." I whisper to myself, directly talking to both Corden and Mercury. I could see their faces already, and their eyes telling me how much they've missed me as well. I could see how Corden extends his arm to reach for me, so I could reach it too and he could pull me from this mess.

I didn't realize how fast I was going, or if it was just the current. I am feeling really numb, not realizing that I'm about to drown. My feet finally couldn't reach the sea floor and I was thrown further from the shore. I'm almost drowning, I've drank enough saltwater to die any minute from now.

***

Am I finally settling in with Corden and Mercury? Am I finally at peace?
I opened my eyes, hoping I am where I am destined to be. The white ceiling and its flourescent lights. The sheets that I'm currently under and the bed I'm currently lying my back against with. The back of my palm is connected to a certain hose that is connecting its other end to a bag consisting of transparent fluid. A nurse trying to check how I am currently doing and feeling came up to me and checked my body temperature.

So I'm not dead yet.

I am confine in a certain hospital.

Notes