Wow, yesterday night, I thought I lost my suicide so flustered. Don’t worry, that was sometime back, the time my camera was taken, I’m alright now (and I swear it, don’t be a ___). I was flustered not because I’m afraid that it lands on ‘someone’s’ hands (anyway, no one can decipher my handwriting), but because I wanted to read it again. I always store my ‘papers’ in the left drawer of my study table, ‘study’ table.

The ‘papers’ are papers (obviously) that I scribble on when I’m frustrated, upset, screwd up, and feel like killing someone. I never make an attempt to write them, so I was surprised last night when I saw a dozen of loose sheets flying about inside. But my suicide note wasn’t inside. Shrugs, so I read the ‘papers’, its uncanny, all of them begin ‘matter-of-factly’ but end with describing my life as a tape or remote control or mirror or I dunno, explaining my f-up state.

Some of them are pretty good, but I never remember writing them and I had to strain my eyes to read even my own handwriting, having no impressions that I ever wrote them. (so you know the advantages of having bad bad handwriting, people can’t read your chesse). This is a rather cheesy one (but I thought it was good), don’t laugh or poke at me and say, you goof or anything like that. Here’s a small part of one.

“I hope you keep your promise, but please remember them first. Your words shatter my heart, but they piece them back again. Now, I’m not sure which it is, I wish you’d on the light so I could see.”

I was apparently a confused sole soul. They make great song lyrics.

And there was another one very angsty (but childish) account.

“When I die, I’ll die a puzzle, unpieced.”

“You’ve given me dead corners, when you said I have the choice to kick the wall till it gives in, but I give way first, dead.”

This part sounds like someone’s song lyrics: “I’ll make you feel like killing me when I’m already dead.” It doesn’t sound like me at all. But I wasn’t Me, I’m Angry, I’m Hurt, I’m Frustrated, I’m in the Dead End, I’m just exhausted, I don’t wanna fight anymore, its Insane. How can you fight against Insanity when it isn’t yours?

I read the ‘paper’s, incredulous. God, how much have I changed anyway. In fact they all sound different. I change everyday. I’m over it, over all the papers accumulated in my whole life, unconsciously over it, just like how I wrote the papers in the first place.

Reading them made me feel so faraway, but I don’t think I’m foolish at that time, based on my mental health and the circumstances around me, I could have topped myself 10 times over, but I admit that at that point in time, I was close, but was not prepared, I could not have brought myself to jump.

But all it tells me is — Give yourself one more day, just one more day, it (the feeling) will be gone.

And I tossed the papers down the rubbish chute, hearing a soft thud as it plummeted down the 9 floors, dead.