littlewonder2

Little wonder we stumble in life.

Suicide Forest

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Inspired by this and this.

The ground crunches and cracks under my feet as I headed towards the forest. I pause for a moment as a wooden sign comes up on my right. Please think of your friends and family… call the Suicide Prevention hotline… Utter rubbish.

Silence and pressure fills my heart as I pass the chain barrier, entering the forest alone and free. I don’t have to worry about anyone here, don’t have to think about feeling so inhuman around everyone else, or feeling inadequate for anything. Soon I will be the nothing they made me into. I don’t have friends, my family hates me, my happy memories are tainted and my bad ones consuming. I can think of no reason to live, no reason to continue, when my happiness can be nothing more than a mask, hiding my disgusting self from the world.

No more.

My eyes are full of greenness, hypnotising me to stay, enticing me deeper into the forest, the ground brown, loose, rocky, ready to swallow me up. I would gratefully allow the earth to consume me, into a perfect natural grave. And best yet, no one would ever find me.

I come upon a sign in two languages, Jesus loves you. Yeah, bullshit. Some foreigner god. I don’t need you, or want you. I don’t want anyone here, I just want to be alone. I don’t ever want to be seen by eyes again.

I walk on, I don’t know why. I could just crawl up and die here, but I don’t. It’s as if I’m searching for something within these trees.

I wander for days, slowly letting myself waste away. Any hour now…

I’m still here, sunken, starving, and still alive. I scrunch up a dead leaf beside me, destroying it utterly as I wait for my own end. It is a slow process. I continue to breathe. The forest embraces me.

I’m bored. I’m starving, but nothing’s happening. And then something occurs. I get up. I keep moving. I’m not done yet.

My feet are the ones moving, decided our fate, and I let them lead the way. I still don’t know what I’m doing, but something in me wants to survive.

I stop between trees, kneel down and pick up a stone. I didn’t bring anything else with me, so if I want to survive, I’ll have to do it myself. I start sharpening the rock against another one. It’s mindless work, but just the kind I need. My mind empties into a thoughtful haze. Images of my childhood press at the back of my mind, as if branded there. The faint click of rocks grazing off each other fills my ears in a steady rhythm. I tick to it.

When my eyes return to it, the rock has a fully form sharp edge. I drop the second rock, and find a stick, cutting four needlepoints into the end. If there is anything living in this forest, I will kill it.

I walk for a long time, before I stop to rest. I wonder if I should walk back to where I came from. But the thought of walking back to people is still untolerable to me. I can’t live among them anymore; I’ve reached my limit. So just what am I supposed to do? I stay for less than ten minutes, before I’m eager to go again.

I hear nothing in the forest for a while, and I begin to wonder if I’m the only living thing here. Surely what people say can’t be the truth… could this really be a dead forest?

I catch a rat finally as it scampers by me as I stop to rest. Grateful for the bounty, I pierce through the heart and open it’s skin, blood onto the ground and myself. Sucking it from the entrance point, I bite into the meat, hating myself for eating it raw, and for eating such a disgusting creature. It breaks even my internal limits.

But I eat it all from the inside out. Perhaps I still might die of disease…

Nights pass shivering, days spent wandering, and occasionally eating. Eventually I must wear this out. I must either die or escape.

I meet solid ground. The path… I can escape.

I meet a man on the road. We exchange sympathetic words.

When I reach a clearing at the end of the trees, I stop suddenly, just at the edge. Am I really ready to leave? I came here with no plans of escape, and the air in front of me feels too bare. I am afraid to leave the forest’s welcoming embrace.

I stand there for well over an hour, hesitating at the edge of the forest, stopping myself several times from going back or moving forward.

I finally start forward.

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Author: littlewonder2

I'm 25, and I blog to improve my writing; I want to be good enough to be published. I also studied Japanese when I was younger. Luckily, I'll be able to continue those studies along with Creative Writing next year in University.

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