For the first time in my life I have thought about being dead. I have never thought about actually killing myself. But I have weighed the consequences of the end. I cried so hard after realizing what I was thinking about. It scared me… it has upset me profoundly. For the first time in my life I think I really understand why someone would kill themselves.
Everything just keeps stacking up. Little by little. One becomes tired and withdrawn. One becomes trapped within the pain that is so great the ONLY way to stop it is to die. The outside forces keep beating and beating one down until there is nothing left but a corpse. Every person’s tolerance for emotional and physical pain is different. Everyone experiences life completely different. But what really drives someone to that ultimate moment. Is there one defining moment. Or is it just the weight of it all sitting precariously on the shoulder until that moment when the legs collapse form the weight.
She opened the drawer to her nightstand, the pale brown bottle of sleeping pills sit harmlessly under the child-proof lid. The long dried tears and runs of makeup down her face are the only signs of life once lived…. as she lies down a long forgotten calm quiets her breath. She comforts herself in the warm down comforter. The sun is shining and the sky is filled with blue… everywhere blue. But the beauty is gone. She sees only darkness. Her soft long hair gently spreads out over the pillow. She has put on her favorite nightgown. It is antique white silk with delicate lace and trim. It is old and worn but it is her favorite. As she closes her eyes, she gently and briefly smiles.
She gently and silently stops breathing… her heart slows… it stops. Her skin goes blueish white and cold. She is gone. The pain is gone.
What pain is so great that one must die to cease its consumption of the mind and body?
Did she kill herself because she thought it was best for her?
Did she kill herself because it was the only way to get back at others?
Was being alive such a terrible thing?
Was her existence really meant to be?
I wish I knew why she did it. She left us all with no answers. No physical scars or bruises, her beautiful body shapely and soft. Only we can’t see what is inside. I remember her saying how everything kept falling apart. She hinted of the pain of all the hurtful words. The relentless torments. But they were just words right? They cant hurt you.
Or maybe it was something else. She mentioned her financial situation was bleak, jokingly saying she would be on the street soon then she would not have to pay that overpriced rent anymore. I noticed she had lost weight… had she stopped eating? The cupboards were bare except for green tea and crackers.
I’m not too clear on this right now. I.. I am still numb that she is gone. My own tears still drying along my cheeks. Her family and friends had abandoned her, but she had me. She had the others. Loneliness and depression were always a part of her life. I came too late to ease her pain.
On this day of Transgender Remembrance we honor those who have died, were murdered, for being different. Killed for being themselves even in the face of all those who apposed. But I can’t help but now think how many more were driven to their own end for being different. How far can a person be pushed emotionally before they snap?
It is often the dozens of little things that will bring down the strongest. A reed may bend in the wind. But pour over it grains of sand… in time it will fail too.