Suicidal Heart • dazatsu ✓

Suicidal Life

He always wondered what was like to be dead.

Non-moving, non-breathing and couldn't experience further memories of the life you lived.

He wanted to experience it but on the other hand, he didn't want to. He wanted to know what it was to never be alive again.

It was one cold winter night; he walked through the familiar narrow alleys like every evening, his hands on his pockets as he breathed shallowly against the dull dim lit lights. His previous attempt on killing himself was as always unsuccessful, thanks to some person who used to be homeless, who rescued him from evitable death.

He sighed, the small puff of air lingering in the air before it vanished slowly as a sudden gust of wind embraced his bandaged body. He didn't feel the cold was neither cold enough nor the hot weather hot enough.

He gave another sigh; it was pointless to think anything irrelevant currently.

He felt an itch and scratched his nape with a few hard motions that seemed to stop the itch from resurfacing any time soon.

He stopped once he was outside the dark alleyway. Mere memories of the past reliving his mind and the feel of blood on his hands, the smell of rusty iron, screams of plea and mercy was something he didn't really enjoy of,

He always wondered why he even joined such a group.

But nevertheless, he did and left the said group and joined a new one, a more refreshing one. The people in the agency were very sweet, majority of the time fun and idiotic and very caring to one another.

He suddenly laughed it was a while since he felt a rush of excitement coursing through his very veins. It was even more fun when the new guy came along.

He readjusted his coat, now he really did felt the gush of wind sneaking a peek on his bandaged body. The subtle touches of the icy wind weren't hard to identify as he felt another one, a stronger gush blowing his body in greeting.

Maybe he should do it again.

He bought a water bottle and some medicine pills and tucked them in his coat's pocket. It was probably the first time he ever done this and wasted a good amount of yen on the items he bought.

He began walking out of the store and had another greeting by the winter air. Christmas was over and the New Year was days away from happening.

He liked fireworks; that was for sure. They were pretty, they were bright and they were a good use of a way to die.

But it wasn't fun of to do that to himself. It didn't seem fun blowing your body apart; he wanted his attempt to be whole, to be something that was easy for a person like him to die peacefully.

He shivered slightly when he thought of something, a bullet in his head? It was probably not the best choice of dying.

His fingers touched the old rusty steel of an abandoned bridge he found just a few miles away from the city. The rough texture somehow was soothing to feel and at the same time disgusting.

He quickly removed his hand from the railings of the bridge. That bridge he had walked upon numerous times before never once broke from his weight but you may never know as he plopped down on the railing, his legs swung carelessly as he looked down below.

Drowning had been erased from his suicide list, even since that day.

He continued to swing his lower limbs, his hands clutching the thin metal rail with slight pressure. He liked the view, he could see the blazing circular things they called stars and the artificial lit circular thing they call a moon.