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Sunday, December 03, 2006

Last Resort - Inside my head...

Voltaire said it best, "To the living we owe respect, but to the dead we owe only the truth".

Ever since I first came across that quote, I've been impatient with people who worry about 'speaking ill of the dead'. I'm not suggesting that one should go around exposing a dead person's secrets. All I'm against is the 'hushing up' that families do to protect themselves, all in the name of the dead.

Suspect wrote a story in memory of a girl who died tragically and unnecessarily. Twice in the past I've been sure that I was going to drown. They say there are three stages to drowning. Fear, Anger and Acceptance. I don't know if that's true but I've felt both the fear and the anger. Death is something I think about a lot and after reading the story I wanted to know what I would be thinking in her place.

This is my version. There's anger and fear but I found I couldn't follow her thoughts right till the actual act. It's entirely fictional. But written exactly as the thoughts unfolded in my mind.


I wonder if this is it. Is this the whole deal. This is it??? What the hell is life supposed to be for?

I wonder if they’d feel sorry when I’m gone. Will they wish they’d noticed me. Damn them all. Everyone’s so involved in their own stupid lives. They think I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be fine. I have 2 parents. I’m being educated. I have a home. I have enough food. Of course I must be fine.

I’ll show them. I’ll make them sorry. All of them. I’ll do it when they’re due back in an hour or so. Mom will come back first. She’ll call out. I won’t answer. I’ll be swaying in the breeze. Ha! That’s funny. She’ll get annoyed. I must be lazing around. Ignoring her while she calls. She’ll show me. Ungrateful me. I don’t appreciate all my blessings. What a child I am. Never thankful, never showing them that I understand how much they give me everyday.

She’ll climb up. Cursing on each step. Anger giving her the energy to climb, where she never would otherwise. Where’s that girl. If she’s awake and just pretending she can’t hear me… Ungrateful wretch.

She’ll push my door open. That’s why I’ll have shut it. So that she doesn’t see me from the stairs. She’ll push the door open… and then what? I can’t see further than that. She’ll try and cut me down I suppose. Quietly. By herself. So that incase it’s not too late, no one comes to know. She won’t be able to. I’ll be too heavy. Not like the pretty, delicate girl she would have wanted. My neck will be stretched. Like a chicken. The bones will have snapped. I hope they snap. If they don’t snap, it’ll be s..l..o..w.

I don’t feel so good. I don’t want to think about that. Much better to think about mother finding me. Will she cry? Just one pure cry of grief. Without wondering what people will say. Without hating me for doing it. Will you cry mummy? Will you hold my cold feet and cry all over them as I hang there. Or will you run out of the room. Reluctant to look at my dead body. Reluctant to face a girl who was so so weak. Despising me.

No. Surely you’ll cry. Please cry for me mummy. Please please. Please think of how much you loved me though I was never as good as others. Though I made you ashamed of me. Though I failed. If I don’t do this then I’ll disappoint you again. I can’t bear to see the way you don’t look at me. The way you both avoid me. Pretending, hoping that you could close your eyes and make me disappear. Dad says he can’t face anyone. That they ask how I did. And that he has to look away as he answers. He seems to think I wanted this to happen. That I was playing the fool. I wasn’t mummy. I swear. Will you believe me when I’m dead? If I write it in my last letter to you? I’m just stupid. I’m just not smart enough. I’m just. not. good. enough.
I’m not like both of you. Mummy will you forgive me for not being as smart as you and dad. I tried. I really did.

It’s not fair of you to punish me for not being as good as you hoped. It’s not fair. I bet you’ve often wished I wasn’t your daughter. That you had no daughter. Definitely not one like me.

Well you’re getting your wish aren’t you. Satisfied now?

Dad will reach home. Mom will hear the door opening downstairs. She’ll run out of the room and shriek. Tell him to come up fast. Look what She’s done. She’s… shes…

He’ll come up. Running. Feeling cold. What has She done. Everything ruined. Feeling faint with horror.

He’ll enter the room. And that will show him. He’ll know that it’s all his fault. Her fault too, but she’s too stupid to know that. Or maybe she’s just too weak to admit it.

Or maybe they’ll just blame me. Maybe they’ll be all smug and sanctimonious. We gave her everything… how could she do this to us… Yeah. That will be their line. But even if people say I was mad some of the mud will stick to them too.

Yes. Some of the mud will stick to them too. I’ll do it. Damn them all.



glenn said...

Dont do that at home. Jump from a bridge or something. People've got to live in that house after you.

Anonymous said...

Statistically 80% of suicide attempts are by people who do not really want to die. The rest just visit this blog :-D


Suspect said...

I'm missing you. Where are you? Why aren't you coming online? And why aren't you picking up your phone?

Josh said...

Found you on Random Blog... I think perhaps one of the most difficult jobs is doing a funeral for someone who everyone knows was absolutely a horrible person. I mean, what good is there to say about them?

Take care,

Suspect said...

Underground, yes.

Woozie said...


Ryan Lobo said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Ryan Lobo said...


I like your post very much.

Thought you might like to read the following.




Kari said...

very nice karen...m gonna link t ur blog even though m not too sure if i've done it right w the other 2 blogs i read regularly...lol...bt really like ur writing...keep going...:D

sudden_sue said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
sudden_sue said...

Hey girl it was really nice meeting up with you. :)

Wish u cud hv stayed over the weekend though...

Anonymous said...

Am I to understand from the above comment that u r back home?

If so, get ur butt to work. Atleast reply to my emails even if u want the blog to gather dust.

fedes said...

ok....this is a scary post. a classmate of mine committed suicide over the summer hols, and tho i wasn't close to her, its become a damn serious thing now. i don't think its a topic that is remotely humorous.

KD13 said...

@ glenn - She wanted the people she left behind to suffer. I don't think she got her wish though. Poor girl..

@ MP - Inappropriate humour don't you think?

@ convict - I'm flattered. And I always answer the phone. Maybe you were dialling the wrong no. :)

@ velvet cowboy - Doing the funeral of someone who no one likes would be tough except for one thing... no one would care if you made a hash of it.

@ covict - underground?

@ woozie - no idea.

@ ryan - I read it. Wow. It must be amazing ssing stuff like that. I specially love the picture of the body lying in a corner of that empty room...

@ kari - thanks

@ sudden_sue - you did more than enough :)

@ john - sorry, I only allowed supervised visits with my computer these days...

@ fedes - I'm sorry about your classmate. An ex- classmate of mine also committed suicide earlier this year and the sad bit is that he was driven to it by his step mother (allegedly) and he has no one close to him to mourn his death. His dad died a couple of yrs back and he never had any close friends at college.
I don't see any humour in it either. This post wasn't meant to evoke a humourous response. I just felt really sorry for a girl who died needlessly and I hate the fact that people who commit suicide are often wiped out of their families lives. Painted over as if they never existed.

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