I lay in bed holding a box of sleeping pills in one hand and a knife in the other. On my table next to the bed rested a pair of scissors and a rope that I had spent hours untangling. My eyes were fixed at the fan. The room was dark with all lights turned off; it was locked from inside and as is obvious, I was alone. In my mind there was a voice; she had lived there for quite a few years now. Earlier she used to visit every now and then but on a fateful (am I sure?) day 3 years ago, she came and never left.
The day I wanted to kill myself was a Tuesday in October. It was a not-so-hot-not-so-cool day and I think it rained heavily that night. Or as I really like to think, the skies were crying because I couldn’t. My phone was buzzing on and off because I had made the mistake of telling a friend what I was planning to do. It was annoying. I was trying to wrap my head around the idea of having to say goodbye to my family and my friends (well, I didn’t have any) so just my family then. But did I really have to? I sat there in the dark with eyes that had become so dry that there was not even a single tear to accompany the gut-wrenching pain that I was feeling in my chest. My mind was a plain canvas for the voice and she painted it with thoughts that were so red and so black—they bled and they were dark. I got up, walked across the room, checked the locks again, placed a chair below the fan, and then went back to rest on the bed. I don’t know why I was resting since that was what I would be doing forever after a few hours. But I was resting. My thoughts were having a war with each other and it felt like my head was going to explode. 12 years of low self-worth, abandonment, and heartbreaks had finally given up and I was ready. I was ready to go through it. I was ready to make that one loop; that one cut; to take those extra pills, to drink those extra tonics. I wanted to stop existing. I wanted it to stop—the voice, the thoughts, the pain, the dryness. I wanted it all to stop. Did it matter? Did it matter that I had everything prepared—I had the sharpest knife, the tightest rope, the strongest pills? Did it matter that I had oh-so-conveniently been forgotten and the world has moved on like nothing ever happened? Did it matter that finally on this day, I had mustered the courage to do what that voice had been telling me for 9 years? Yes, it did. It did matter. But none of it mattered more than the fact that the day I wanted to kill myself, I didn’t.
Powerful.
Exactly what I was going for.
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Courage is standing up to your fears and doing the thing that may frighten you. Let these courage quotes remind you to be determined and face the challenges in your life with determination and strength.
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