This piece is part of the #SuicideNotes project.
The writing is on the wall.
No, seriously, it’s on the wall. Got a black sharpie from my dad’s office. Or, it was dad’s office. Before he left. But shit, who cares about that. Right now, this moment? Mine.
Not like that’s the point. I don’t care, I mean, it’s never about me and it’s not like I’m some whiny bitch about that, all ‘look at me!’
Yeah, fuck that shit. I almost didn’t write anything. ‘Cause, you know, who’ll care? But this one’s about me. And if I want to write, I’ll write. If they don’t care, then, fuck it, they don’t care. Won’t be anything new, right?
I’m going to do it. Today. Any minute now.
There’s the rope, all tied up just right.
There’s the chair.
I’ve written what I want to say. I’m pretty sure. I haven’t signed it yet. That’s the last thing. But I don’t want to screw this up, so I’m waiting, just to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. This has to be right. This is it.
I even checked my fucking spelling. Crazy, right? Since they’ll just probably paint over this anyway. Like, next week. But what do I care?
I didn’t write anything stupid. Like, about Penny, how she dumped me, or whatever. ‘Cause I didn’t care about her like I acted like I did. It’s not about Penny. I mean, she left me, and, that’s cool. I knew she would. It’s just, the way it works for me. Not like it’s ever going to change.
I didn’t call dad an asshole or mom a bitch, though he is, and so is she. Well, sometimes. I mean, their marriage shit. They really hated each other. Not like I wish they were still together or anything. You know, but they could make an effort to be less fucking awful to each other when they have to be around. Or, whatever. Shit, I don’t care.
I wonder if they’ll scream at each other at my funeral. Ha! That’d be perfect. I hope they do.
Yeah, so this isn’t about them. They did their thing, and, whatever. It’s what they did. What they do doesn’t affect me. I’m sixteen. I can handle it. And I did. That’s not what this is about.
I’ll check the rope, gotta make sure. It’s… thick. Kinda thicker than I thought it would be. Not like it looks in the movies. But it’s like it said on the internet. So this is the rope and I got it right. I’m not a fuck-up and I guess they’ll all know that when I get this right. I did my fucking research and everything. Take that Mrs. Hall and your fucking D is fucking History.
I’m sixteen and fifty-nine days. I like that. Not sixty. That’s like a milestone, one of those tens numbers. It means something to get to those and I’m so done with this. It means something to me not to get there.
It’s cold in here, which is good. For… I don’t know, but it’s good. This will be the way it’s supposed to be. Like nothing in my life has been. But this will be. And I swear that makes me feel like a fucking god or something. I’m not the only fuck-up in the world, but they’ll all just keep trying and keep fucking up and they’ll live fucking pathetic lives.
Not me.
And I’m going to end it just right, just perfect, and that’s one thing they will have to say I didn’t fuck up. And then maybe they’ll be sorry.
Shit, I didn’t mean that. That sounds so whiny, that ‘they’ll be sorry’ shit. I mean, I don’t know, some of them might feel… I don’t know, something. I mean, mom will probably cry. That’s what you do when your kid dies, right. Even the fuck-ups. And, that kinda sucks. But I can’t help it. Not like she’ll actually miss me or anything. I mean, that’s like the one flaw in my plan, is, god knows what time she’ll come home tonight so I can’t say when she’ll come looking for me.
But, by then, that’ll be her fuck up, not mine. I’ll be past all fuck ups. Yeah. Yeah.
Yeah.
This is so right. So right.
Time to sign my name. Perfect. The perfect fuck-up’s illegible signature. Well they can complain about that too. I don’t fucking care.
I got one of the dining room chairs. Don’t want the swivelly one from my desk. No. Gotta be right.
Big thick rope. Yeah. No fucking this up.
Perfect. Perfect. And just kick.
Oh shi…
*****
Cory Jacob Williams, 16, died at home October 6, 2009.
He was born August 14, 1993, a son of Daniel Seth Williams and June Sara Taylor, who survive.
Funeral services will be held at Maxton Funeral Service Chapel with the burial immediately following.
Cool. I liked the “it’s cold in here” part. I’m impressed that the writing voice is so vastly different from other things you’ve written, yet still very strong.
I love it, and I think this is an inspired project. Keep it up. 🙂
Hi Leah,
I think the strength of this is his mind just pinging about all over the place, unable to settle on one rationale to another, showing up his immature motivations (showing his teacher he could do research, therefore he was better than D grade).
But I’m not sure if he means to go through with it or not. I think when someone is so far down there, their thoughts can barely be expressed – I like what you did with his suicide note being drawn on the walls and quite likely to be a s illegible as his signature – but I the reason why i think he’s sort of dabbling with suicide, is that he’s making way too much sense in his thought processes. Petty and juvenile they might be, but someone that close to killing themself is actually so far removed from the line of reality, of normal thought, that they lose a degree of straight thinking and coherence. Maybe there is a difference between teen suicide, when full reasoning may not yet be in place, but can be strained through immature emotions and those adult sucides which have fra more to do with being cut off from any logical, reasonable connections with the world, so as to be able to remove yourself from it.
Sorry if much of this doesn’t make sense.
But more power to your elbow to write the others in the series.
Marc
Nice job, got a good feel for the emotion. There was only one sentence I’d rework, the one with ‘like’ used twice in four words, but then maybe considering the age it was intentional. Either way good job.
Thanks for the comments! Marc, you’ve really given me something to think about. On the one hand, suicide is often approached with an unnatural calm. I’d think especially likely in teens whose brains haven’t developed the ability to really grasp the consequences. And illogical thinking goes with depression too.
But there’s a fine line there and I may not have hit on the right combination of expressing the feelings that motivate him to do something so drastic based on such thin reasoning.
Thanks again everyone. Good points for me to use in taking another look at this.
Very nice.
Good story. I think the voice is excellent in this. Caring about everything while putting on the don’t care face, even to himself. The ending was really good, too. I’m taking it to mean that he’s gone through with it, but as the chair bounds away, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Powerful!
Your comments on this are invaluable and so very appreciated. Thank you again, everyone.
Argh. Being a depressed teen myself, and having gone through these monologues in my head, this was hard to read–only because of the accuracy and genuine feel to it. Good voice, the boy was almost poetic in his meter. You really captured it. Now I have to eat some chocolate and watch Pride & Prejudice. T-T
Monica,
I’ve written four of these so far, and one is terribly close to one of my experiences, and the experience of writing it was so intense. I wrote it in a rush, hit save, and wouldn’t even open the file again for a few days.
But it’s things like that that make me think I’m on the right track with this.
You go take care of you. 🙂
The scene is disturbing, but well-written and conveys to me what I’d imagine a 16 yr-old might think at a time such as that. It does seem realistic to me and I wish I could reach out and give the mc a hug, reassurance.
Wow… I think I’m going to cry.
I’ve never considered suicide, myself, not for a second. But in middle school I had a friend who talked about it like it was just a fact of life for her. She was going to do it some day. It’s not like she was planning to do it any time soon but only four of her family members were still alive. All of her uncles and aunts and siblings had committed suicide. The only deaths she had ever experienced that weren’t suicide were a set of grandparents who had heart attacks. To her, suicide was normal… Her parents did have her in counseling, so hopefully she chose a different path…
Thanks Madison and Ruth. These are pretty disturbing stories. I have to ration them, only write them when I’m already in a bad mood. 😉
Thanks for your comments.
This is the one that hits home. Only it wasn’t rope. It was movie film. Thanks for this.