Kristina Marks

Credits: Kristina Marks

This story is so touching. I really cried when I first read it.

You want to kill yourself?
It’s 10:53 pm on a Sunday night. You’ve already said goodnight to your parents and siblings. Your door is locked and they think you’re sound asleep. You sit at your desk twirling a pen in your hand. You stare at the blank piece of paper as the tears refill your eyes for the fifth time tonight. You don’t want to do it without writing a goodbye letter. You want to make sure your family knows why you did it. The tears fall onto the paper and you can’t help the frustration as the droplets begin to ruin the paper. You crumble it up and break down even harder. You realize you can’t write the letter, so you look in the mirror once more & watch as your final tear falls. Only a couple moments later your heart stops and the blood escapes your body to create a puddle on the floor. But nobody is going to care, right?

It’s now 6:47 am Monday morning. Your mother waits downstairs in the kitchen to give you your lunch money. She’s already late for work but she doesn’t want you to stress about making lunch for yourself. She doesn’t know what’s taking you so long. She yells your name a couple times, but there’s no response. She has no idea your cold dead body is lying in your bedroom. She thinks you slept in, so she runs up the stairs and knocks on your door. But still, there is no answer. She opens the door and screams, horrified. She runs to you and holds your body. The tears seem like a waterfall, everlasting. She sits there with you cradled in her arms for a good hour, until she has the strength to get up and call your father. Your father rushes home, and they cry together. They pick up your siblings from school and try to explain to them what has happened. Your older brother runs out of your room and into his. He slams the door. He thinks its all his fault. He’s always picked on you, calling you names and starting arguments just to push your buttons. He punches his walls and allows the tears to pour out of him. Your little sister doesn’t understand. She asks if it’s because she always tries to steal your stuff or because she never leaves you alone when you have your friends over. It’s hard to explain something like this to a six year old. But she probably wouldn’t care anyways, right?

It’s now Wednesday and your mom finally goes to your school. She hasn’t left the house since you took your life, but she knew she had to go. She enters your classroom to only see the teacher sitting at her desk grading papers. It’s 12:19pm so your classmates are sitting in lunch. Your teacher greets her and asks where you’ve been. Your mother bursts into tears and your teacher automatically is astonished. She has no idea what’s wrong, but she tries to comfort your mother. Your mom begins to explain what had happened, and your teacher cries too. She begins to have flashbacks of all the times she yelled at you for not paying attention and not doing your homework. She thinks it’s her fault for being to hard on you. Your classmates return and are confused. A couple students recognize your mom and want to say hi, but they sense something is wrong. Your teacher calls the vice principal and principal in and your mom explains. Everyone in the classroom is now crying, Even the annoying boy that sat behind you and threw gum in your hair is crying, thinking its his fault. Even the popular girl that wouldn’t give you the time of day is crying, thinking it’s her fault. Even the nerd that wouldn’t let you copy his homework is crying, thinking it’s his fault. They’re probably all faking, because nobody actually cares, right?

A week has gone buy and it’s time for your funeral. Nobody has ever seen one this large. Almost every kid in your school and their families are there. Actually almost anyone you’ve come into contact with has come. It’s like a pool of black as one looks over the people sitting in the chairs as your dead corpse lies in the casket. Everyone goes up to speak. And after every speech everyone begins to cry even harder. Even the emotionless jock is in hysterics. The funeral lasts many hours; nobody wants to get up, to move on, to accept what has happened is real life. All of them are just too lazy to get up, because they obviously don’t actually care, right?

It’s now been a month since your death. None of your family members have been in your room. The door remains shut. Your mom goes up to your dad and whispers, “it’s time”. Your dad looks at her with his lifeless eyes, nods, and slowly rises from the kitchen table. They enter your room slowly. Just stepping inside of it gives your mother the chills. Your father holds your mom as she begins to tear. He’s trying to be strong, but he can’t, soon the tears swell up in his eyes as well. They begin to pick up your clothes, dust your shelves, and make your bed. The stain on your carpet from your blood has been covered with a rug. Neither of them goes near it. They clean in silence for the next hour. They don’t care that you’re gone; they just didn’t want a messy room, right?

Another week goes by. Your brother passes your room and hears crying coming from inside. He opens the door to see your little sister sitting on your bed clutching your favourite pillow. He runs to her and they cry together. Soon your mother and father have joined them. Your father jokes, “this bed is not big enough for four of us” and everyone laughs. You know, that’s the first time your family has laughed since you died. The first time a smile has even crept on their faces. They hug each other and your mother says, “we’ll get through this, someday…” You thought nobody would care? Well, you were wrong.

Nobody wanted you to take your life. Nobody wanted to wake up and find your body. Nobody wanted this, wished for this, could have imagined this. Some people knew you’ve been down lately, but they never thought this would happen. They never thought this could happen. They never thought they would go through this pain. They never wanted to have to face the agony, the guilt, the frustration, the depression, & the heartache they have been forced to encounter.

Now, before you kill yourself think about it. You matter so much to so many people. There are so many people that will miss you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Do you want to take that away from everyone? From yourself? Never get to smile again, or see the person that makes your heart skip a beat, never get to live? Don’t do that to yourself. You have so much to live for. If you haven’t already, do you really want to miss the opportunity to meet your true friends? Have your first kiss? Fall head over heels in love? Get your heart broken time and time again? Go to college? Get an A+ on that final you studied for days on end for? Get married? Have your own children? What would you do if you walked in to your 14 year old daughter’s room and saw her lying there with no heartbeat, surrounded by a pool of blood. It would be no big deal right? You’d shrug and clean up the blood with a smile on your face as you hum your favourite song that’s been in your head for the past couple days. No. you’d cry and clutch her lifeless body in your arms and cry. Cry, and cry and cry. You’d think it was your fault and a million thoughts would go through your mind. Why would she do this? Is it my fault? Why didn’t she tell me she was depressed? Why didn’t I stop her? How couldn’t I have known? But she was thinking the same thing you were as a child. You know, that nobody would care?

So before you slit your wrist, or swallow all those pills, or hang that rope about your neck and jump from the chair, think twice. Take a deep breath. You’re worth more then this. Nobody should have to think that taking their life is the best thing to do. Anything you’re going through is temporary; the feeling won’t last forever. You’ll get through this. No matter how long it takes you need to know, you will get through this, and you don’t have to face it alone. There are so many people you can talk to. Family, friends, neighbours, teachers, counsellors, hotlines, me, etc. I’m only a thirteen-year-old girl, I don’t know everything, and I don’t even really give good advice. But I will be here for you, no matter what. I will try my absolute hardest to help you. So please; do not ever, EVER, write that letter, or even think about suicide. Life is full of ups and downs for a reason. It makes us stronger, shows us what we can get through. It builds and shapes up into the next generation of parents, grandparents even. You might not see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, but I promise its there. You just have to keep walking towards it. You’ll be okay, I promise you.

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Kristina Marks

A Prompt that Went Entirely Awry

Present-day you meets 10-years-ago you for coffee.

Share with your younger self the most challenging thing, the most rewarding thing, and the most fun thing they have to look forward to.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/good-tidings/

I wouldn’t have a single nice thing to say to nine-year-old me. I will probably start out the conversation by telling him my current accomplishments and the situations I am now in. Then proceed to tell him the hell he is going to walk through in the next ten years to get to where I am. Call me mean, and brutally honest, but I call it tough love.

Perhaps I don’t want to spoil the surprises, however unpleasant, but I will warn him of the many things he will discover about life and how harsh it can be. Reflecting back on the past ten years, I realize there really is nothing to be grateful, or thankful, or optimistic about. Life just sucks. It’s a cycle of stress, disappointment, anger, hatred and irritation, which all culminates in death.

I feel like another walking contradiction. I feel proud of what I have accomplished and where I am, but if I were to be given another chance to do it, I don’t want to be where I am right now. I rather have my fun, take my risks, and lose it all. But then again I wonder if ten-years-in-the-future-me will reprimand me for doing so. Is fun and thrill worth it?

I guess I will never know, because I have never taken that road, and I cannot form an accurate comparison. My life is all about the regrets on the other path that I did not walk. Then again, I am proud of where I am now, thus I can’t really call them regrets, can I? Let’s call them objects of curiosity instead then. That’s much more accurate. How do you overcome this curiosity of wondering what would have happened if you walked the other path?

You can’t advise me to focus on the present, because I will always be curious. You can’t tell me to be grateful for what I have now, because I am not. The grass is always greener on the other side, in theory, and my imagination is a powerful thing. I always perceive the path I have not walked to be so much more rewarding.

If I am still being confusing, let’s phrase it this way. One path leads to safety and security. You are well-to-do, decently satisfied and achieved the minimum of what leads to a financially successful life. The other path leads to risk and adventure and thrill. You are exposed to strange things, experienced a great number of things, and perhaps have one great artistic talent, like singing, drawing, dancing or playing instruments. The future is very uncertain, though.

Oh, I just thought of a different way to phrase it which is much simpler. Comfort zone. Doh, why didn’t I think of that earlier!

I feel like I’m digressing so I’ll wrap it up here with a curious query: How do you dare to wander out of your comfort zone if you have so much to lose?

A Prompt that Went Entirely Awry

Sticks

socs-badge Doobster at Mindful Digressions
Stream of Consciousness Saturday. May 16, 2015. Hosted by LindaGHill

 Write a stream of consciousness with the prompt “stick”. Have Fun!

You stumble upon sticks when you’re trekking. And then you use them when you’re fishing. Have you done either two of those activities before?

I have been trekking before. Plenty of times. I belonged to jungle trekking clubs for a total of six years. Not exactly jungle trekking clubs, but actually more of like outdoor activity clubs. So there’s not just jungle trekking as the only activity we do. We also have kayaking, and white-water rafting sort of stuffs. There’s a decent variety of water and land activities.

But I have never fished before. I wonder why. I suppose because I assume it’s an expensive hobby, somewhat. I mean you need to buy a decent stick, decent bait, decent line, and spend an entire day just to fish. Time is money. So everything considered, fishing is a really expensive hobby.

Did you know there’s a way to measure the value of your time in terms of money? Like for example you earn three thousand per month, then you take that and divide it by hours. Let’s see.. a month has roughly thirty days. So you earn 100 per day, and each day has 24 hours, so you take a hundred divide by twenty four, which gives you roughly four dollars per hour.

This can be a helpful tip in time management, particularly for the rich people whose time is a lot of money. Let’s say you are considering whether to cook your own dinner or to go out and get take-out/take-away/pack something home. (there are so many ways to say take-out. From where I’m from, I call it da-bao, which is mandarin, but everyone here understands it.)

Anyway, cooking dinner would take an hour, then washing up after that takes another hour, so two hours in total. Meanwhile going out for takeout and coming back requires one hour, no cleaning. So if somehow you know how much cooking at home is going to cost you, let’s assume ten dollars, and going out to take away is twelve, you might say getting take-outs is more expensive. But no! Consider the one hour you just saved, that’s four dollars worth of time! Thus, take-out is actually cheaper.

Ugh, this all sounds much better in my head when I hear myself talking about it. Maybe I’ll stick to writing fiction, not financial advice.

Sticks

Rap Poetry

(C) PinterestThey called me stupid, they called me green,
They laughed in my face, giving it a bright red sheen.
I never felt confident, I always had flaws,
I could never be perfect enough to drop everyone’s jaws.
~
And I swallowed all their lies, but I was a fool to do so,
So I stopped caring about them, and my life improved a thousand-fold.
Who are they to judge me? They have their own imperfections!
So starting today, I can’t care less about them and their actions!
~
I’ll begin showing myself more appreciation,
Because I know I’m nothing short of human perfection.
If they ever come around again and try the same trick,
I know they won’t penetrate me, I’m solid as a brick.
~
I have nothing to worry about, all humans are the same.
Everyone is born different, so please show some restraint.
Stop knocking and criticizing on everyone else you see,
instead try this little something that’s called L-O-V-E.

So this is part-poetry and part-rap-lyrics. Is there such thing as rap poetry?

Rap Poetry