I’m looking in the mirror. Looking at myself. Looking closely I can see tears pour downwards delayed by my chubby cheeks. For several minutes I’m just standing there. I just received a text: “It’s over; I can’t be with you anymore. Soz” What is that supposed to mean? I look at the text over again. And again… and again. Tears continue to pour - now landing on the screen of my phone breaking the reflection of my face.
There’s something wrong with me? Is there someone else? This can’t be it, or is it? All these kind of questions keep tormenting my brain. I don’t want to live on this planet anymore. I stop breathing. “I hate my life…” I whisper to myself sobbing and coughing. No one will ever love me again. Hell, no one probably ever loved me either.
I stop thinking and then proceed towards my father’s razor by the toothbrush. Holding the razor I stab myself with no inhibitions. I don’t fear this - everything is taken away from me anyways. Blood is everywhere but physical pain is nowhere. The wound smells just as bad as I feel.
Feeling more and more angry I find a piece of paper lashing it around my thighs and some cellotape to keep it together with. I hop into my grey, perforated sweatpants and some random clothes before I walk out of the bathroom, into our living-room and rush out of the front door. “I DON’T CARE ANYMORE. I JUST WANT TO STOP LIVING IN THIS CRUEL WORLD!” I scream falling down onto the outdoor steps of my family’s house.
Neighbours are watching me from everywhere, but I really don’t care at this point. I still can’t believe the fact that the coward she is ended it by SMS. The deep scars in my thigh feels like nothing compared to the mental pain I have right now. I lift myself up and continue to run with one limp foot. I run though the garden and into our neighbours garden. “What the hell are you looking at?!” I scream. They can clearly see the blood through the poor-handled adhesive around my leg; I could see it in their eyes. I try not to think about their frightened face and I run until I reach the local park. It’s still some old snow lying around in the park from the past winter. As a just recently self-declared psychiatrist I find the closest stone-bridge and I jump off of it. I jump for me – but not myself only. If this is what she wants, so be it.