Suicide Monologue

I spent my days outside, every breath was dangerous. I travelled across the country. That’s where I met multiple gangs. Only one turned on me. One regular Thursday, I witnessed a gang committing murder. Sweat ran down my face as I clamped my hand over my mouth. Being a murderer myself, feeling disgusted at another person doing the same thing felt hypocritical. But the brutality of the guy strangled to death was horrible. His body lay in the ground in an unnatural way, just like my father. I ran impulsively without thinking. My footsteps alerted the gang and they all turned towards me. I sprinted faster. Past the windows of the corner shop I frequently visited. Past the blockade of my past memories. Soon, I was outmatched. A big hand clamped

I hated myself. I always tried to understand why my parents didn’t love me, so I highlighted my every flaw. That was the only way I could justify their hatred. Soon I wanted revenge so the only way I could take control of a situation was to kill myself. I sat on the roof many times debating if this was the end of my story. I guess It wasn’t because my biggest fear would be seeing my parents still not love me after I woke up . Suicide was a way my parents would see that they actually did love me.it was a way for me to control how and when I would be loved. This was a way for them to feel how I did, the sadness I felt when they were there, but never present. Love was something I always desired. That roof was where I thought of all my mistakes. I always thought that everyone over thought things like I did. When I learned that some people just impulsively did things, I thought that they were so selfish. How could they do something without thinking about others? I never let myself feel anger because I was taught it was a bad thing. So I just put in a small section of my brain. When I finally learnt how to use it, I hated myself further. I was a destructive machine. One thing didn’t go my way and I would blow up. I wanted people to see I also hated myself because I thought that would help, so I left visible wounds on me. Instead when I felt anger which I directed at the person who caused it and not at myself. I was such a bad person, I didn’t

But they weren’t the definition of depression and grey like the ones at home, they were stunning with a purpose. The city itself looked like a dream. In the distance, there was a sign. I walked towards it. Solar station it said. Suddenly the ground flipped and millions of train routes were revealed to me. Everybody there had a robot and me without one raised questions.I ignored all the weird looks as they were outnumbered by my fascination with a world I hadn’t seen before. I walked past rotating shops, displaying every single product in a fashionable spin.clothes that I never even dreamed to be able to look at, danced and pranced around me. There were so many deals floating around. 30% off for a new dress. But two pairs of shoes get one pair for free.The bold red signs Floated around waiting for someone to reach up and grab them out of the sky. If no one in that area did, they went forward to find someone who would. I stood there mesmerised. The colour and the luxury attractiveness of everything. I was used to seeing everything built for a purpose and not for pleasure, but here we had luxury treats to the eyes. My eyes wandered to a glass apartment. There was a rug that matched the furniture and kitchen. The kitchen I knew had nothing coordinated. We bought the cheapest stuff not things for aesthetic.A loud bang happened to my right. The flying seats that carried people crashed. Nobody batted an eye. I blinked and the injured people and