Content warning: depression, suicidal thoughts
Recommended song: W.E. - Charms
I am walking uphill. As the slope steepens, my muscles struggle to move and my breath shortens. Within seconds, I decide to speed up. Then I abandon that sudden decision just as quickly. Those who are trying to reach something, those who have a purpose, move fast; they run instead of walking. I have nothing to reach, no one waiting for me. Yes, I have a purpose, but it has no concern with living. That purpose is death itself.I tell myself I should walk slowly, limping along, just as my soul limps through life.
My steps slow even further. When I look around, I realize I have wandered into a neighborhood without noticing. I think I need to choose a house. With every step I take along the street, my eyes spend what remains of my time scanning the houses around me. I eliminate those with balconies. Then the ones with old-style roofs.
I catch the attention of some residents. They watch me closely. I can feel how I stir their curiosity toward strangers. I don't care. I do nothing to draw their attention away. I just walk and examine houses. For now, that is all I am doing.
For now.
A wave rises from my thoughts and reaches my lips. I laugh. I'm losing my mind. I think I'm losing my mind. I need to find a house, I mutter to myself. I stop in front of a three-story white building. I look at it. The feeling that I might be close to what I'm searching for blurs my thoughts. No balcony. No old roof. A child suddenly steps out from the side of the building. My legs freeze, joined by my tongue and palate. The child runs across to the opposite sidewalk. I want to warn him to be careful. The words do not fall from my mouth. But the child spills his words bravely into the air around us.
"Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack! Mom said I can eat candy!"
The frost inside my heart begins to crack. I had thought my heart was frozen solid, just like my soul. Quietly, I wait for the child to come out of the shop with his happiness in hand. From where I stand, I watch him struggle to choose which candy to buy.
A few minutes later, the little boy comes out. I don't know why I waited to see him again. I find myself amazed at how the lollipops in his hand make his dark brown eyes shine. Lost in my thoughts, I don't even realize he has approached me.
"Do you want some candy?"
"No, thank you."
"You should eat it while your mom allows it." He smiles and looks straight into my eyes again.
"But my mom gave me permission for only one. I bought this for you."
He presses one of the candies into my hand.
"Ridiculous."The child, who does not hear my murmur, lifts his head and looks up at the sky. I lift mine with him. The sky is deep blue, not a single cloud in sight.
"That's why I don't want to grow up."
After saying this, the little boy leaves me standing in the middle of the street. As I stare at the candy left in my palm, a feeling begins to stir in my chest, making my heart tremble. Suddenly, I toss the candy into my shoulder bag and start running down the street.
I cannot stain your beautiful memories, little one.I cannot leave a dirty mark on them.
Now time moves slower than my steps. Time slows down, circles me, pulls me in. As my steps quicken, the little boy hops outside again with his lollipop. His laughter, his joy, cling entirely to that candy. I don't even wish to be in his place. I know I can't be. No one can take another's place; everyone must try to remain themselves. And I have not been myself for a long time. Life does not move forward on wishes. It moves by valuing the present and beautiful moments. The more one circles between the past and the present, the more doors to the future close. I know that from now on, I will not find myself inside a moment whose value I can cherish.
I walk downhill. My intention is not to return to where I came from. I need to find a new house. I speed up my steps to forget the child, his joy, his lollipop. I rush down the slope so fast that my steps stumble, and I nearly tumble into emptiness. In the end, I collapse where I stand. My heart pounds wildly, my thoughts scream as they try to seize ownership of my mind. These are the final flaps of my soul's wings. Before my mind, before my heart, my soul is the one dying. I do not own my thoughts. My soul is like the thin, trembling fingers of a child beggar shivering in the cold, exhausted from helplessness. I want to scream enough. I want everyone to hear it. I want my throat torn open. I want the sky to split. I want the apocalypse to break loose. I want every trace of evil in the world erased. I want the very possibility of evil to sink to the bottom. I want my mind to be purified. I want to draw into my lungs the breaths my soul needs, freely. I want to feel alive.
Since crouching to the ground, my vacant eyes are pulled back by a color.
It is a white, four-story building.No balcony.No old roof.No child.
There is a contradiction.
The third floor is pink.The other floors are white. Pink.
A contrast.
As I slowly stand up, my palms are wounded by the rough stones beneath me. I smile. While smiling, my heart aches and sorrow splits my soul. Despite the turbulence in my body and mind, I take a deep breath. As I examine the entrance of the building, the still street suddenly fills with noise. A truck enters with disturbing chaos.
Seeing several middle-aged men greeting the truck at the entrance, I find myself stepping back. I avert my gaze. It's a moving truck. I lift my eyes to the floors of the building with the single pink level. The fourth floor is empty. The entrance door grows busy again. The workers, clearly exhausted, begin unloading boxes from the truck.
"No," I murmur."Not today. I can't. Not today."
No matter how much I want to, I can't today. My steps quicken backward. When I turn around, the wind hitting my skin brings momentary relief, but its strength is not enough for my soul.
As I move away from death, I feel forced, for a brief moment, to live.
●
The life reflected onto my window from outside clings to the glass without entering. After what happened in the garden, I swallow hard. There are no people. No crowds. No chaos. I take a deep breath. Perhaps, I think, if I could always remain in this moment, I could keep living. But I know that peace will eventually abandon me and throw me into a deeper emptiness and mental torment. Forgetting that would be my real suicide.
I lift my gaze from the empty garden painted in shades of green to the sky. Moonlight chills my skin, memories churn inside my mind. I stand up quickly. As I head to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water, my thoughts follow closely behind. My mind aches, my throat tightens. I believe water will help. I fill a glass from the bottle on the counter and force myself to drink. My eyes fall on the marks on my wrists. They are not very visible, but I know they are there. Just like the ones in my soul. I don't want to cry. If I cry, I lose.
Tears are forbidden.Until I go to that pink building, tears are forbidden.Tears are forbidden forever.
I take a deep breath. I need the last fragments of my resistance. Tomorrow, I will go to that pink building. No matter what. Whether there is a child or not. The thought that I need a pen and paper appears in my mind. I walk toward the living room.
●
(You can listen from here.)
The weather is strangely warm for the season. I begin to feel beads of sweat on my body. I am on the same streets I walked days ago. This time, I don't examine the houses. I have already found what I was searching for. I know where I'm going. For the first time, I know what will happen to me. I know I will get what I have wanted for so long. I crush the fragment of unease in my heart beneath the thoughts that plunder my mind. Sometimes they work. Or at least, I think they do.
My eyes search for my salvation. They search for the four-story building with the single pink floor. My steps are eager to find it. First, I climb a hill. As my breath shortens, sweat melts across my skin. I am walking toward my salvation. Remembering this, my steps quicken. Despite the sun above me, I do not stop. I use the hill I once rushed down recklessly to catch my breath. The moment the pink building comes into view, I slow down. The dryness in my throat startles my mind, and my frightened mind attacks my soul. I close my eyes slightly, take a deep breath, and keep walking. Soon, it will all be over.
When I stand before the pink building, my steps freeze. I examine it. So this is the place, I think. I approach the entrance and test the door. It's open. A broken smile appears, mending its own fracture. God wants this too.
I step inside quickly. I begin climbing the stairs, skipping steps. My goal is to rise quickly toward the sky. My speed betrays me; my right foot slips, and I fall at the end of a stairway. My knee throbs with pain, anger rising inside me as my body heat spikes, even though the floor beneath me is ice-cold. My breath scratches my throat as I struggle to inhale.
I have to get up.I have to go.I can't endure this.My God, I can't endure this!
I stop my tears where they are, though they slash at my words, and force myself to stand.
Crying is forbidden.
I look at my bleeding knee and lift my head. As I study the ceiling, dizziness overtakes me, nausea rising. My eyes fill despite my resistance.
Tears are forbidden.
When my gaze finds the stairs again, I take a deep breath. This ends today. I will end it. I will be ended. This time, I climb slowly. I will rise to the sky and erase my traces from the dozens of lives I unwillingly became part of. When I reach the empty fourth floor, I drag my feet toward the stairs leading to the rooftop. I am not rushing. I am aware of every step. When the stairs are left empty, I will have left the world.
I will breathe freely when I am dead.The act of "living," which makes me feel trapped, will die.The life that belongs to me will die.The life entrusted to me so that I could live will be killed.I will kill myself.
When I reach the rooftop door, I push open the worn door. I move toward the place where my steps will end. These are your final steps, my legs. Eyes, this view is the last thing you will see. Dear skin, the wind striking your face is the last thing you will feel. Lungs, these are the last breaths you will take without ever reaching my soul. Thank you for everything.
As I slowly approach the edge, I lower my gaze as if to measure the height. The emptiness I witness ignites an intense pleasure in my brain. My legs step onto the concrete edge. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I repeat to myself:
These are the final breaths that fail to reach my soul.
I will be free.
I will be free!
With my eyes closed, I wait a few more seconds for the wind to sink into my skin. The world's way of saying goodbye to me. Perhaps the broken farewell of something that failed to welcome me. Though the fracture marks my struggle with it, it stands upright while I remain at the bottom. Being on a rooftop cannot hide this truth. The world keeps turning for others; I remain still.
My count finally ends.
"Goodbye," I whisper to the wind I take as my messenger, knowing the world will not say goodbye to me. I want to release myself into freedom slowly, savoring it. I smile. I leave.
A sound reaches my ear, forcing me to hesitate. My brows knit together. It feels as if I am inside a film. As if I am the actress in a scene written to end my life. I don't want this. My life is not a movie. Not a book. Certainly not something meant for others' approval. I believe I am falling.
It's just a voice in my head, I try to convince myself. It will end, and when you end, you will step into death. For the first time, I feel the world spinning around me. I feel melodies slipping into my soul, loosening my heart. I am not falling. My soul is breathing.
I open my eyes with awareness.
My soul is being born.
I realize I am looking at my surroundings with eyes I have never used before. Everything I see appears alive. The awareness that I stepped backward instead of into the void creates a storm of exhilaration in my heart.
Life returns to my body, and my soul joins it.
This rebirth gifts my mind a light dizziness. I tell myself I won't go down. I will savor this vitality. I thank every melody filling my ears. The returning wind makes itself known on my skin again. It wraps around me. I feel its lightness inside my soul. The simplicity of the wind makes my soul equal to it.
"I am alive. I feel," I whisper to the wind.
It answers by tossing my hair.Yes. You are alive. You will live.
The wetness reaching my cheeks collides with the wind, creating a coolness.
"I'm free!" I shout. I am astonished. I can't comprehend how a few melodies pushed me toward life. I love this astonishment. My soul, suffocated by horrors, opens its arms to it.
The tears spill freely now, as if they asked permission. I open my eyes and repeat:
"I'm free!"
My gaze pierces the sky; I look at the blue as if for the first time. I greet the flying birds with my smile. Their voices intertwine with the melody in my ears.
I am hearing birds for the first time.
I am hearing birds for the first time!