Bullet

Bullet

            I clutched the gun in my hand, afraid that it would slip from the sweat covering my palm if I didn’t hold it tight enough. My entire body was dripping in sweat, to be honest. I was more jittery than I have ever been, and my head was swimming with thoughts. I almost thought I couldn’t do it.

            My mind was racing, my heart was pounding, and my adrenaline was pumping. I held the gun against my head, finger on the trigger, then let out a primal noise and slammed both hands down on my knees, gun with them. My mind almost seemed to be divided into two thought processes, one trying to save me and one trying to destroy me, and the one trying to destroy me was overpowering the saving voice.

Your family will miss you. Your family hates you. What about your friends? You have no friends. Is it worth losing your life? What worth is a life in misery? What if it gets better? It never does. Won’t people hurt at me being gone? On the outside, but inside they’ll be celebrating and rejoicing.

            I started sobbing and crying for the fifth time in an hour, and buried my face into the gun and my hands. I hated myself for being weak; I hated myself for letting it get to this point. I had always said that suicide was for the weak and selfish, and now I was at that point. One bullet is all it would take.

            “Alright God, if you don’t want me to kill myself send me a sign.” I yelled at the heavens. I had always been religious, but I wasn’t anymore. Hating myself, hating the world, and being depressed tended to do that. I waited for a half hour, and nothing. “What’s that? Nothing? That’s what I thought. I don’t need your sign, I’m not waiting anymore.”

            I cocked back the gun slowly, and lifted it to my head. I felt the ice cold steel against my temple, and for the first time in a long time I felt calm. It was a morbid kind of calm, the kind that only comes with acceptance of death. I slowly pulled the trigger, and felt release. As my vision grew hazy and darkened, I saw the door open, and the face of my girlfriend. I felt despair rush through me, and thought to myself a final thought. You sent me the sign God. I guess the saving voice should have held out.