‘Dear Lisa,
I’m sorry. I know you hate it when you say that but this time I really need to say it. I’m sorry I always push you away when you try to reach out. I’m sorry that when you stretch out your hand to save me, I choose to jump instead. I’m sorry I shut you out and said I was fine each time you asked how I was doing. You know that’s the most cliché thing in the world right now; saying we’re fine even when we’re not because that’s the right answer for the ‘how are you’ question. Okay, I can totally see your face right now. I know I’m just being a smart ass.
In truth, I have never really been fine. I’ve been anything but fine. I’m tired. I’m tired of my dad and the harsh words that he speaks without the knowledge that they hurt, not just me but mom too. I’m tired of seeing mom sad because of me. I’m tired of the voices in my head. It’s really noisy in there and I can’t think. I’m tired of being here. I’m tired of me.
I know you’re probably going to say I’m not alone; I’ve got people who care and want to help. But you know me. I love my own company and yours of course. If you’re thinking of my meds, I’m tired of taking those. Xanny doesn’t make it go away. Baby Lil Uzi Vert lied.
You know they (the voices) say to make the pain go away I should just create a bigger pain. And I had this thought. What if I left? All I do is bring a lot of pain and I’m sure they wouldn’t miss me. They wouldn’t even notice my absence; it would be as though I was never here.
I don’t want to give you the cliché of ‘if you are reading this, you’re too late’. So I’m just going to say ‘I love you’. Don’t cry too much, okay. It’s all for the best.’
I smiled to myself after I finished writing the letter that night. I got up, got an envelope from my dresser and enclosed the letter in it. As I walked up to post box, I felt really calm. On getting to the post box, my heart began to race. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing leaving like that but I was certain of one thing; Lisa was going to understand. She always did. I sobbed a little, muttering the words’ I’m sorry’ in between hiccups but got a hold of myself. I kissed the letter.
After dropping off the letter, I stood by the post box for a while. I touched it. This was going to be the last time I would ever touch a post box. When I got home, Mr. Patterson, my neighbor was star gazing.
“Good evening, Mr. Patterson.”
“Good evening, Miss Mary. Such a lovely night, isn’t it? The stars sure are bright.”
“Yes, it is Mr. Patterson.”
“It sure is”. I muttered to myself as I unlocked the door.
I’m sorry. I know you hate it when you say that but this time I really need to say it. I’m sorry I always push you away when you try to reach out. I’m sorry that when you stretch out your hand to save me, I choose to jump instead. I’m sorry I shut you out and said I was fine each time you asked how I was doing. You know that’s the most cliché thing in the world right now; saying we’re fine even when we’re not because that’s the right answer for the ‘how are you’ question. Okay, I can totally see your face right now. I know I’m just being a smart ass.
In truth, I have never really been fine. I’ve been anything but fine. I’m tired. I’m tired of my dad and the harsh words that he speaks without the knowledge that they hurt, not just me but mom too. I’m tired of seeing mom sad because of me. I’m tired of the voices in my head. It’s really noisy in there and I can’t think. I’m tired of being here. I’m tired of me.
I know you’re probably going to say I’m not alone; I’ve got people who care and want to help. But you know me. I love my own company and yours of course. If you’re thinking of my meds, I’m tired of taking those. Xanny doesn’t make it go away. Baby Lil Uzi Vert lied.
You know they (the voices) say to make the pain go away I should just create a bigger pain. And I had this thought. What if I left? All I do is bring a lot of pain and I’m sure they wouldn’t miss me. They wouldn’t even notice my absence; it would be as though I was never here.
I don’t want to give you the cliché of ‘if you are reading this, you’re too late’. So I’m just going to say ‘I love you’. Don’t cry too much, okay. It’s all for the best.’
I smiled to myself after I finished writing the letter that night. I got up, got an envelope from my dresser and enclosed the letter in it. As I walked up to post box, I felt really calm. On getting to the post box, my heart began to race. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing leaving like that but I was certain of one thing; Lisa was going to understand. She always did. I sobbed a little, muttering the words’ I’m sorry’ in between hiccups but got a hold of myself. I kissed the letter.
After dropping off the letter, I stood by the post box for a while. I touched it. This was going to be the last time I would ever touch a post box. When I got home, Mr. Patterson, my neighbor was star gazing.
“Good evening, Mr. Patterson.”
“Good evening, Miss Mary. Such a lovely night, isn’t it? The stars sure are bright.”
“Yes, it is Mr. Patterson.”
“It sure is”. I muttered to myself as I unlocked the door.
On entering the house, I popped open a bottle of dad’s best wine and poured myself a glass full. They had gone for a dinner party so I was home alone. I walked into my room and took one last look at it. Although mom always complained about how lonely it was; my room was my safe heaven. It was my one place of immunity where I could be me and not hurt anybody. It had white walls, beige carpet, and a big bed that was also in the colour beige, with a red coloured blanket. At the far end of the room, right next to the window, my thinking chair. Although to anyone else, it was just an old rocking chair. I stepped into the bathroom for my last bath. The water creeped slowly down my body as though it was giving me a goodbye kiss. I took out a dress I had just bought and slipped it on. I looked really gorgeous. What a way to die; grand exit.
I opened the medicine cabinet, took out all my drugs and emptied them into my glass of wine. They were about a thousand pills. I laid on the bed and drank my last drink. In my last few minutes on the earth, everything seemed to slow down. I could hear the clock tick, the crickets chirp, my leaky faucet drip, my heart beat. It was perfect. Just perfect.
I opened the medicine cabinet, took out all my drugs and emptied them into my glass of wine. They were about a thousand pills. I laid on the bed and drank my last drink. In my last few minutes on the earth, everything seemed to slow down. I could hear the clock tick, the crickets chirp, my leaky faucet drip, my heart beat. It was perfect. Just perfect.
© Okiemute Idjerhe
2017.
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