The death note

Why go on through the tourturous perils of life when you can be set free in death?


1. Sweet, sweet suicide

I was slicing open mental scars, the pain and anguish I had suffered poured out of my open wounds and trickled down my body like blood. I felt the weight of a million words lift of my shoulders, the loathing and resentment of those who had hurt me was shown through every tear, every sob. My heart was exploding with emotions, the pain in my chest too much to bear as I stared into the lens of the camera and spilled out my secrets.

The icy winter wind whipped over my face, blowing my hair into my eyes and freezing my trembling lips. I let sentences roll off the tip of my tounge with ease as I continiued to express my pent up emotions. It is funny how different words taste in your mouth, how some can feel like sweet honey on your tounge, how they remind you of happy memories from the childhood days where you could do no wrong. Yet why are there words that taste so bitter in your mouth, that choke and suffocate you with their meanings, how, when spoken, they feel like bullets peircing your skin with tremendous pain? How can a simple sound, a selection of seperate syllybles make such a difference to someones life?

I know how. These words, these insults, they get under your skin. They poke and prod and scratch and scrape and dig at your heart like a constant pain that will never go away. Not when you eat, not when you work, not when you sleep...

I took some deep breaths to try to control my sobs.I  lifted my frail frame from the hard chair, mainly focusing on stopping my legs from collapsing under me. I turned from the vidio recorder and reached for the railings. The peeling paint felt rough against the smooth skin of my hands as I swung my legs round the metal bar until I was standing on one of the poles, tightly gripping the bar behind me, the only thing stopping me from plummeting 34 floors to the busy road below. I let a small laugh of relief leave my lips as I leaned further from the saftey of the roof. For the first time in a long time I felt happy, genuinely happy.

I let the weight of the bar leave my hands. I spread my arms out wide and relished in the feeling of freedom that engulfed me. I felt the air slip through my fingers like silk as I plummeted further towards my sweet, wonderful death.

Goodbye, world.

And good riddance.

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