Forever Alone

          People always say they are alone. Facebook, tumblr, twitter, all you see is people complaining about not having a boyfriend or not having friends by their side constantly. “Forever alone” they call it. They never had felt truly alone. Never had the emptiness mask their bodies, keeping them from the world, and finally dragging them down to the depths of hell.

 No…Nothing like that…

                                                                            

Left foot. Right foot. Smile. Left foot. Right foot. Wave at “friends”. The ones who talk behind my back. The ones who do not care about what I say. The ones who have no idea what I am going through.  We do the usual, “Hey what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Tired. You?”

“Yah same. Thank God it’s a half day.”

“Yah totally. Well, bye.”

Routine is what I go through every day; stuck in a never-ending rut awaiting the end but in no way reaching it. It seemed like steps of any multitude lead me to a boundless conclusion. But today is different. Today, my life will be altered forever.

Walking home, almost feeling lighter, and floating on air, becoming more content with this decision, I choose to stop at the cemetery to meet my sister. On the tomb it states,

Evangeline Peters

1990-2008

“Beloved Daughter and Sister”

People saw her as a quiet girl who chose the wrong path, always keeping herself from the world, never engaging with friends but in reality she had none. Like me, no one paid attention to her, closing her out and leaving her alone and increasingly depressed. Taking her life was the hardest and bravest thing to do in my opinion. Not so much of the confrontation of a lost soul suggested any budge. She didn’t want to change herself to make her feel better; people should accept who she was before! Instead of ruining her life even more, she ended it totally, skipping the suffering and just go straight to the blissful sleep. Purely Inspirational.

Back at home, I climb the forbidden stairs toward the attic, feeling my heart skip a beat every other step but still feeling as calm as before. As I finally reach the attic, I become anxious. What happens if Dad comes home? What if he hid the last piece to my own serenity? What if…

No. I need to stop myself. These what if’s are just blockading me on my way toward my goal. Step by step, creek by creek of the aged floor, there the box is awaiting my arrival with open arms. Closing in I already see that Father has forgotten the lock, an omen saying “Yes, this must be done!”. The pace and stammer of pulse within my heart deep inside my chest chased me from my fears.  Sweat streaming down my face, the smell of musk has overridden my nose and now all I can see is the life savior.

 “This is happening. It’s really happening.” I whisper to myself with a sweet grin spreading across my face.

The barn, so peaceful, yet carrying a fatality over its shoulders, seems like the perfect place to go. Lushes grass, awaiting a fresh graze, the most precious tune of the blue jays filling the air, sun shining down on me with the slight bite of the fall breeze, almost heaven but not quite there yet.

Life savior in hand, I stroll up to the brilliant red barn, still intact from the last tornado that came through, but yet still abandoned…Just like me…Abandoned by people I call friends, who care less of what I have got to say or do. Abandoned by my family, because father would rather drink and my mother sits, rotting in jail. They always forgot about me. Everything has lead me to this…

Stand right in front of barn door. Face out towards field. Raise gun to head. Breath..

And…


(Based off a true story)