13 Deaths

Shot

-SHOT-

 There's another one coming tonight. Every year there comes another New year. There were so many of them coming, I stopped to look forward to them and to wait for them, they will come and without my countdown. I hear the firecracker outdoors, I really don't know why they have to make so much noise over one more number on the calendar. I would love to simply ignore them, but they are too loud.

 I really don't know what kind of a holiday person am I - I would decorate my room in November for some time, now I don't decorate it at all. Sometimes I put a holiday hat in the middle of the summer, other times I would rather not like to even think about it at all. The whole holiday joy is very hard for me, I can't rejoice at anything, why would holidays be an exception when they are worse than anything else. I wish I could get into hibernation until this joyful hell passes.

 When I was a child my mother put decorations. This is nothing new, rarely when she allowed me to participate, whether it was decorating the house or painting a coloring book (bought for me, of course) yet, when I grew up, there was suddenly expected too much from me, more initiatives than I could handle. We would have put the same decorations,  balloons on the Christmas's lights that, as if by some kitschy tradition, were wrapped around the chandeliers, and then we would add that fluffy thing I don't even know the name of. Real oasis of the kitsch, I admit that sometimes I was scared of these decoration. They would have been here to half of January and were placed before my birthday. What a stupid tradition.

 I was born on the Catholic Christmas, so the holiday season in our house was one week longer. Now the agony lasts for one week longer. My birthdays were charades, they were more like home visits than at celebrations - we set the table, guests come, lunch or dinner, adults are talking, children are playing and goodbye. It's a short version. I never liked to go to birthdays, I'm a partybreaker ie one who kills the party.

 I don't like to be in a larger group of people, I'm feeling worse after it anyway. The last time I celebrated my sixteenth birthday before my depression worsened. On the seventeenth story of the celebration ends, I remember that day for going to the bridge to jump from it. It obviously didn't happen, it wasn't tall enough for death, so I left it for later in March. It's another story, it has nothing to do with this story. That same year I didn't wait for the New Year, I slept trying to ignore the pain between the forearm and the upper part of the arm, that is the inner part of the elbow. I thought that the cut on that part of my body will kill me, but I'm alive to talk.

 I remember the nineteenth birthday by loneliness, gingerbread cottage that drove me insane and the breakfast that I mostly ate on my own. For the majority I also gave my best to make a the cake, but no one else wanted to eat it because there was a quarrel, so I ate it myself. It's good I didn't make a cake of normal size, but maybe such a cake might have killed me because of my higher sugar level. Well, that's what I call a sweet death.

 Twenth birthday, twenty-six pills. I don't remember the twenty-first, I was high once again. I wish every birthday was like that twenty-first, not to touch me at all.

 About the New Year's Eve, I remember when we first came to a new house, I thought that I would sleep peacefully, I even took ten pills that were gently knocked me out, but the Neanderthals with firecrackers were stronger and from falling into a coma. My heart pumped as crazy and the anxiety didn't give up for almost an hour. Seriously, what is wrong with them? Does audible simulation of war represent the expression of happiness for them? An explosive device explodes, then what? Puff!... The end, it just burst. As when you pound your hand on a table or someone hits your head with the math notebook. Plus, let's not talk about the potential injury to animals, they don't care whether is the New Year or whatever, but are very sensitive to noise. Puff! Here's another one! Puff! It's like we're in a war zone, not a holiday season. It's better that they played their turbo folk, I would still somehow understand that. Puff! Oh hell. I'm trying in vain.

 One of the worst ideas for a person like me is turning TV on, every single commercial will want to give you some holiday joy and take your money that, see a miracle,you don't have. I can't understand it, all this gifts and grandiose celebrations: Christmas is a Christian holiday, it has nothing to do with Santa Claus, that day we don't celebrate the arrival of Santa Claus but the birth of Jesus, and all this is companies's fault because they make big deal about it  and attract naive consumers who give great importance to all of that. In our place Christmas is a calm holiday because people's euphoria reduces after New Year's Eve, somehow it doesn't make a problem to me (until these maniacs with firecrackers start), I love when there is no too big deal about some holiday. They come, pass, leave you without money and take the euphoria with them. No better situation with television, every year the same thing, the same conversations, the same wishes, different people. The only thing I like about this season are all these glittering lights, they look so magical under the lap of the night. They are so magical, I admire their colorful beauty. Who would say that something so small can be better than everything else this and every other winter.

 In my childhood, my dad and I would play with balloons, watching a New Year's program that somehow had more sense than this one today. My mother didn't want to play with us, very rarely she would do it. Of course, who I am that she could behave like a mother to me. We didn't light a firecrackers and similar nonsenses, it's a vainful throwing of a money, damage to the ears and a potentially injured hand for life. PUFF!

 In the last several minutes of old year, I've been thinking that this will always be repeated and that I will still feel bad after the holiday doom metal ends. I know, it's called a blues, but I'm a metalhead and doom metal better describes my feelings. PUFF!

 I looked into my undecorated walls, pulled out a gun from the drawer, cursed after another firecracker nearby and put weapon next to my head. The countdown starts: 10 ... 9 ... 8 ... 7 ... 6 ... 5 .. .4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... 0! PUFF! This time, it was not a firecracker.

 My walls will always be decorated with my blood, even after the holidays.