My Attempted Suicide (boyxboy)

My Time of Dying?

How brave/ of your body/ to keep breathing/ when all you can think about is/ not.

-Unkown

Kyle's POV

I can't exactly say I regret that day as well as I can't say that I won't try it again.

I can still remember how it all felt. Maybe now even clearer than then because my mind isn't as fogged and determined. The warm blood pooling out of the gashes that stretch themselves vertically across my forearms from my wrist up until a few inches under the crock of my elbow. I can still remember the icy cold around me. Numbing the pain. Making me feel lighter, making me feel an amount of nothing. But that feeling of of nothingness was what I needed and if I had to say I felt anything at that moment I would say apart from that nothingness I was relaxed, it felt good. When I think about it now it comes even clearer to me that I hadn't been this relaxed in weeks, months maybe. My brain was too lazy to think of such precise things at that time. It just wanted to rest.

The longer I lay in the cold the warmer it got. I don't know if that was true or if it was just a illusion coming with the situation. The real question was though - and if I'm honest I still thinking about this sometimes when I'm feeling down or self destructive - if the cold around me came accustomed to my body heat I was radiating or if my body was just slowly taking on the temperature of the snow around me. - I know what is most likely right answer but I can't get this out of my head. Whenever I'm not distracted by anything or nobody is around my mind spirals around this again and again. It keeps me sane as much as it drives me mad.

Out of the corner of my eyes I studied the way the blood was slowly but surely turning the snow around me a vibrant shade of red. Slowly draining into the snow. Slowly draining me. The patterns it had imprinted into the pure white environment around was hypnotizing, at the same time eerie and beautiful. White laced with red. One purity fighting against another different kind of itself.

It was a quiet Sunday, church time to be exact, as I lay there outside in the cold. Alone while everyone else was in the warm, together, most likely praying for the saving of their little insignificant souls. They together as a community and me alone with myself. I wondered if they'd even noticed my absent, noticed that I was gone. Probably not. I'll never know if I don't ask and I don't really plan to do so.

Since I was the oh so perfect boy the irony was quite exquisite. Me, the dream son of everyone's family and married couple; the boy who helped in the household when and where ever he could. The boy who went to church each and every Sunday to pray and always had the best grades possible. That one-in-a-hundred child that didn't even revolt when it hit puberty; never tried smoking, drinking, drugs. In their eyes I was perfect. In their eyes I had everything. A family, a home, a future.

But still, I was the one who wanted to die so badly.

I knew the people were going to talk. Much more of that dumb gossip than they normally do. More truths that were so twisted you had to dig to find the point of it all and even more lies and assumptions. The concerned ones like, 'Why did he do it?', 'How come his parents never saw it coming?' but also the hateful ones; 'What reason did he have? He was the only one with a perfect life!'. Maybe some of them would be angry, some would grief and -I know they are going to be there- even some that would be happy that I'd be dead. My 'perfect' life wouldn't be dangling in front of their faces anymore; so close to reach out but still never achievable. What should I care. I wouldn't be there to witness all this.

I had died with hope and release.

With the hope that the people around me -my neighbors, classmates, 'relatives'- may realize what they did wrong and in case of my classmates what fatality their actions can have. Those people may realize that they have to scratch and be persistent before you get even the smallest peak behind the facade. The thick terrifying wall someone automatically build around themselves after something dramatic or shocking happens or when they lived in the misery conflicted by their surroundings and society so long that they try to hide their true selves because they know -or were raised to believe- they will never be accepted.

I let my head fall back into the soft snow again. My hair must have made a great picture of contrast at that moment. The dark shades of brown which almost looks black surrounded by the infinite white around it with random dark red patterns laced through if all. It was such a waste nobody was the to capture that image. I bet you could've won some super duper important or well-known photography contest with it.

The last image of the perfect boy, ruined by his oh so perfect world until nothing of him was intact on the inside.

I closed my eyes. Saw nothing. Heard nothing, Felt nothing but my own body and the calming cold around me. Absorbing the silence around me.

Finally. Silence.

"Kyle?" I heard steps approach -or should I say imagine steps approach- crunching loudly trough the snow.

They were in my head. The steps. The voice. All just in my head. Never would someone with such a young masculine voice know my name; at least now my real one, maybe the mocking names from school. And how concerned the voice sounded, even my imagination started mocking me then, in my last minutes of existence. Maybe deep inside I still wanted to be saved...Well, I didn't actually think so. My subconscious was just as much of an ignorant bastard as most of the people I knew were. I had thought about what I was doing long and deep and I have to admit I was a little proud of it.

"Shouldn't you be in church Doll?" Yup, there is was again, that fascinating voice. Young, rough but still somehow bitterly sweet. It sounded so calm, so happy. So concern-less.

I hoped it stayed that way. That when I was finally gone the voice stood by my side -though only living in my head- during my last few moments could live happily ever after even when I was long gone. I didn't even know myself how that would've been possible but the thought was calming while the snow was getting even more comfortable now.

I didn't react. There was no point in reacting and answering a voice that was only real inside of me.

Sinking deeper into the snow I let the blackness that was on the edge of my vision for minutes now engulf me even more. I embraced it. Made myself feel more welcomed in it; more relaxed.

"Kyle?" silence. "Shit. oh shit. FUCK. KYLE!?"

My eyes flew open at the shier force and volume with which those few words crashed into me.

Breaking my peace.

Breaking my silence.

But it didn't last long. It was too late. Not even a second after my eyes opened they fell close again. I was just too tired. There was no energy left to use. It was all just so cozy and soft; there was no reason to fight the sleep.

Before I lost consciousness I recalled what I had seen in the short moment my eyes had opened. The image of a tall blurry body with a masculine built.

After that...

...only darkness.