A short story I wrote;
The night is forlorn and distant. A fog hangs over my head oppressively, like a cloud, obstructing the hope of the constellations from my vision. It leaves me trapped in my thoughts. Cicadas chirp and penetrate my isolation. The floorboards creak slightly, the wind howls through the ajar window and the lustful rose-pink light of dawn seeps through the balcony door, reminding me that the night is never forever. The moon is still slightly visible above the Santa Barbara horizon. Its light dances playfully on my skin. I now truly comprehend the blaring sound of silence and its insinuation of my apparent sanity. Fatigue dances upon my eyelids and in a few minutes, I am sound asleep, my soft snores permeating the crystal clear night…
…The train tracks engrave themselves onto the skin of my thighs as I lay in the middle of a railway intersection. I run my hands through the blades of the crying dew drenched grass and lay impermeably between the tracks. I fantasize about the train coming my way. Should I try to escape, or let it take over?
In this life, this awfully mundane and imperfect life, there is no meaning, no purpose. I am never quite living. I am merely existing. There is nothing true to lose, nothing to gain, nothing to live for. I fantasize about that final end, the ethereal tunnel of blackness that would beautifully finish this forever. I guess that’s how depression hits; one day I woke up and instead of crying over being alive, I was crying because I wasn’t dead.
‘I won’t move a muscle,” I tell myself. Not a finger, not an inch. I will bite the bullet. I’ll take the train car to the head.
I’m waiting for a train that’ll take me far away. I won’t know it when I’m there, but that’s why it’ll be worth it; nothing will matter anymore. I won’t fear it, because once I’m there, fear simply won’t exist. No pain, no guilt, no worthlessness, no remorse.
I hear the pulls of the train in the distance. The tracks rattle beneath me and sparks shoot up my spine. Blaring lights blind my eyes and I release a cry of relief and gratitude. This is a dream, surely a dream, for this is the end, a beautiful end, a most glorious dream. I feel the train approaching closer and closer. I let out a shrill yelp of sheer disbelief and excitement. The end, my ecstacy, the beginning of blissful darkness and nothingness. The train is a mere foot away and I feel the blow against my … –
The frothy waves of the morning high tide lap against my California beach house, the pungent smell of salt and seashells shaking me from my blissful absorption. My breath is acrid and I am panting. The moonlight shines on my scars. The sheets are crumpled and have fallen off my bed. A cold sweaty sheen covers my skin and I am trembling. That dream, that beautiful dream; it was indeed just a dream.
* * *
The mundane days and nights pass by like always; the sky a thick velvet blanket, not a single star in sight. The clouds overhead seem to always block out the sun and the dense fog in my head seems to always obstruct any hope of that dream ever coming true, of any glimmer of hope in my life at all. I see the future linearly. I can see my dreams in the distance; headlights, sky scrapers, the sounds of cars whizzing by, the silence of the night, love. I see myself now, in grayscale; my skin is a paler shade of gray than my eyes. They are pure black, for all they see is the hopelessness of my situation, the darkness of my current location. In the middle of these two highlighted stages is an enormous muddle, a colossal jungle of confusion and scribbles and never ending havoc. I cannot seem to get past this rut.
* * *
The tracks carve themselves onto bottom of my calf muscles as I graze in the middle of a railway intersection. I brush my hands over the blades of the sobbing dew drenched grass and lay imperviously between the tracks. I let my mind wander about what will happen if a train comes my way. Should I try to escape, or let it take over?
“I won’t move a muscle,” I tell myself. Not a single inch, not even a fingernail. I will take the train car to the head, I will bite the bullet, even if it knocks my teeth out and my gums gush blood onto the asphalt and concrete.
I’m waiting for a train that’ll take me very far away. I won’t be aware of it when I’m there, but that’s why it’ll be worth it; nothing will matter anymore. I won’t fear it, because once I’m there, fear simply won’t even exist. No worthlessness, no pain, no guilt, no remorse.
I hear the pulls of the train in the distance. The tracks rattle beneath me and sparks shoot up my spine. Blaring lights blind my eyes and I release a cry of panic and confusion. This is a dream, surely a dream, for this is the end, a most catastrophic end, a most calamitous dream. This cannot be happening, for how can I end my life this way? These fifteen years of indeciciveness, of aspirations and dreams and hopes, all for what? To be defenestrated? I feel as though all the life inside of me has been sucked in by an external villain, an evil nemesis; death. I am not ready for this. I am not ready to be stripped of life, barred of any chance at a better day, a brighter beginning.
I feel the train approaching closer and closer. Once more I let out a shrill yelp of sheer disbelief and frustration. I try to lift myself with my elbows but my hair is tangled in the tracks and my foot caught underneath a bar. I find the end coming all too soon. The black hole I dreamt about now seems far too dark.
The train is a mere foot away and I feel the blow against my ribcage, the bits of my skull shattering into a million glittering pieces. The bittersweet impact of the wheels against my side is unimaginable, unfathomable, and I cannot help wondering how in the world I had ever hoped for this type of an ending. Every atom of my body and soul, aches for another chance. It aches to apologize for my dreary blindness and insanity, for the distortion of my mind. But I know now. I know this is the end. This is the last moment. I realize that I am no more, no more, no more, no…-
* * *
My grandmother once told me about heaven. As she sat on her deathbed, the wrinkles on her forehead creased with wisdom and the cancer in her lungs corroding her insides, she told me that one fine day, I would meet her here.
I think she lied, but maybe she was just mistaken. I’ve looked all over, but I cannot find her anywhere. She also told me that someday she’d be reborn, as would I. I don’t know if that was a lie, either.
The ambiguity starts to fade now; I was never wrong, just mistaken. Wanting to trash my life was not a wrong notion. It was simply a mistaken one. And though I must bear the brunt of my brutal wishes, I still find myself analyzing and repenting the days spent wishing for these days. If only I’d known how awful they would be.
Two days ago, my broken and fragile body was found. I watched from above as it was carried to a funeral home at which my family and friends gathered, sobbing and throwing daisies on my burial stone.
Daisies; my favorite.
Friends; those beauties I’d so blindly ignored.
Family; what I never truly appreciated.
The cliche I had built around myself is now coming true, coming back to haunt me.
Be careful what you wish for. You just might get that and so much more.
– – –
I’m waiting for a train that’ll take me far away. I won’t know it when I’m there, but that’s why it’ll be worth it; everything will finally matter once more. There’ll be none of this awful pain, regret, worthlessness or remorse.
I hear the pulls of the train in the distance. The tracks rattle beneath me and I feel electrified. Lights blaringly blind me as I cry with relief and gratitude. This is a dream, surely a dream, for this is the beginning, a beautiful beginning, a most glorious dream. I feel the train approaching closer and closer. I let out a shout of sheer disbelief and excitement. For a moment I fear that nothing can touch me. I shake with the possibility of the train going through my body. Albeit, this is no time for regrets. this is a time for a fresh start of something new and pristine, for crystal-clear beginnings.
The beginning of ethereal vibrance and desperate importance brings exhilaration and invigoration to my every pore. The train is a mere foot away and I feel the blow against my side. The squeezing and pumping of my heart and the beating of my pulse remind me that I am back, I am alive, once more, I am living, I am –
Alive once more.