Suicide Monologue

The poem “Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note” by Amiri Baraka uses vivid images of sights, sounds, and daily activities to symbolize a heartfelt story. In the poem, Amiri, is one of the African American slaves who is frustrated about the discriminatory treatment by whites. So frustrated he wants to commit suicide. The writer used transition words starting with “lately”, “now”, and “then” for each stanza. He was imagining how he acted before his death and how his daughter reacted to his death.

Waiting in the courtyard with my band one last visit before they go off to college, a representative of the Emily Program walks towards me explaining what the procedure was. Knowing the other two would pay attention I look around at the surroundings and in the corner I notice an orange tree, I wonder if that is where Skylar sits when she gets a free period. A caramel hand slips into mine and I look up to see the pianist pulling me with the representative into the building. As we walk through the maze of corridors we stop at a room, or a jail. The gray room is eerie and as we step into the room we see Skylar, her frame dwarfed by the band shirt she’s wearing. Hearing the door open she looks up her face hollow and her eyes no longer hold the same sparkle. As my eyes catch hers the wish that I was stronger for her resurfaces, as if she can sense my thoughts she quickly raises and beckons me to her. Three strides and I hug her pulling her frail form into my body. Her bony hands hold me close. I feel her thin lips near my ear and her husky voice brushes against my earlobe, “You are so strong, I’m sorry sweetie I was weak”. I feel the guilt and self-loathing that has built up finally leave my body as I clung to her frame. Knowing that she never blamed me, I was finally able to accept my actions, as those of a child, a child scared and afraid to lose the person that meant the most

I pushed myself onto my weak feet and stumbled home. For days I couldn’t leave my room, my anxiety and depression preventing me from moving, pinning me to my bed. His words still rung in my ears and all I could do was think of him. Somehow in the midst of my thoughts, my sorrow slowly turned to anger. I didn’t understand why he would shut me out so abruptly and suddenly I realized that I had to change, that I had to move on.

I got kicked out of nearly every bar; I have no money left to pay for drinks. I am homeless. I caught a glimpse of myself in a window and my heart almost stopped. I looked awful, my beard is long and unkept, hair down to my shoulders, clothes ragged and torn, and my shoes are beginning to wear through. I felt how I looked too, dirty and hopeless. Maybe I will end it today, I thought as I continued to walk to the River Spree. I wanted it to end so badly, to end the pain and the hopelessness, the darkness I felt. I bumped into someone else and got a snide remark in response, perhaps a month or two ago I would have demanded an apology, but I didn’t care

Fate is one of the most vile, shameful, and offensive ideas to the power of the human spirit. It amounts all human success and creativity to a predetermined event actualized by an almost infinite number of random factors. Fate mocks human ingenuity and demoralizes our very existence as sentient beings. It relinquishes our power to determine our future to accidental events that are indifferent to the outcome they bring. Fate is the enemy of human progress and to accept fate is to surrender your control.

In a hushed tone, John asked me to promise not to discuss our talk with anyone else. He had been one of my closest friends for over a decade, so of course I guaranteed him confidentiality. John’s eyes never left the cracked sidewalk, and as we walked through town that cold winter night, John revealed that he felt isolated and recently begun contemplating suicide.

Everything I saw, everything I heard, everything I felt... She cracked open my wall which all the scenery around me started to take on colour. The emptiness became full, nothing became something and the roots inside my heart started to blossom. I thought I was satisfied because my dream had come true and I’d told myself it was enough. Yet here you are, watering this withered heart again. That cloud of darkness inside me that you once saw... you saw it as the night sky. The darkest places of all. It’s something so dark that I nearly forgot that the stars also shines too. You made me understand my pain and I’ve translated this pain into something beautiful. Because that darkness, turned out to be so bright just like the starry

I felt like nothing. Everything was numb. Two in the morning hit, and I knew I would regret staying up so late. At that moment though, nothing mattered. Tears stained my face and my eyes were more swollen than a broken foot. Everything was hurting. It hurt so badly I could physically feel the pain aching in my chest. I knew it wouldn’t be the end. Last time was never the last time. I knew I was lying when I said I’d never do it again. I promised myself, but any promise you make to yourself is a lie, life or death if you ask me. No one knew. Not a soul. And I intended to keep it that way. I was only fourteen. I was just a kid, hardly in the world as a teenager let alone this person with all these real feelings. As a girl, if I had

I was always alone, left to drown in my own thoughts. I felt like my own home was a prison. It had seemed as if every day, I was digging my own grave deeper and deeper. Killing myself without the intention of actually doing it. And to

My family was nowhere to be found. I rummaged frantically through the debris as I was tormented by terrified thoughts that rushed through my head like a raging hurricane. Those screams had belonged to the people surrounding me, but a new terrified scream wafted by my ears, and i realized that this one had erupted from my own clogged-up throat. My vision blurred as my eyes pooled up with moisture, and streams of tears cascaded down my squalid cheeks. I could do anything for this to be over, for all of it to be over. The dreams. The visions. Everything. I wished for an end, and escape: I couldnt take this anymore.

I can feel myself slipping, falling into the dark abyss. My mind whirls as I listen to a cacophony of noise around me. Then I feel the frigid water envelope me and it stings like knives burrowing their way into my skin, piercing every inch of me. I try to breath, but the water clogs my throat and threatens to drown me. Then it all stops and I feel the sunlight filter through the icy water and brush my fingertips, as if it is telling me that I will be alright. This is what I felt like when my heart got broken by the person I believed to be my true love. The dark abyss is depression and the drowning is the waterfall of tears. While the knives are the pain you feel, and the noise is the sound of your heart shattering into a million pieces as you read the text that tells you it’s all over. But the sunlight is your family and friends coming to comfort you and to tell you that everything will be alright. This essay is my story of how I found love, lost that love, and was betrayed by a friend.

She was losing interest and I could tell. There wasn’t light in her eyes when she laughed, and there was no emotion in her voice when she talked. She wouldn’t even go to me for comfort, she suffered silently. I always wondered why she would never open up to me, why she would never talk to me. I knew she wasn’t fine, I knew that she was hurting, but she just wouldn’t allow me to help her. But I stood by her, I was still there for her; she wasn’t willing to let me in, but I was going to be waiting for her to.

There I was, standing in the grounds of my school, bound by judgemental onlooking eyes, which studied me for a sign of vulnerability; begging for me to collapse into my self-fabricated darkness. Like a cowardly criminal, I slumped, trembling uncontrollably in the middle of the secluded balcony, where I implored myself to “stop” as I yet again had a crippling anxiety attack which incarcerated my whole body, though this time because my counsellor had called my parents regarding my suicidal ideation. It was punishing enough to wake up in the mornings, though faced with the constant internalization of emotions tore strips off my self-esteem. Tears filled my eyes like an overflowing river and cascaded down my face, though freezing in the silence. Proceeding to tell myself repetitively to “stop it”, as I refused to accept that mental illness was the corruptive reality of my life, I cowered as the flashbacks uncontrollably replayed in my mind. I recollected the words that any mother would dread to divulge to their child; that “sometimes I think that it would be better that you were gone, because then, you wouldn’t have to feel this pain”, contradicting this by expressing to me that “I know it’s selfish, but you can’t leave me”.

Wounds had reopened, pieces of my heart had gone missing and the sun raised for everyone else but me. The dark hole where I was living had no communication access with the world or myself. I felt persecuted by feelings that I’d never felt before – I felt empty on the inside. It all felt like I had entered a cardiac arrest a long time ago and no one had done anything to save me… not even my dearest friend, my deepest love ­– the man whom I loved so much. Clouds full of tears, a heart full of thorns and a life full of devastations was all I was working

Tears were reaching my eyes. I wouldn't, no I couldn't let them fall sitting by her begging me to come back, and I just couldn’t. She tried kissing me but I just couldn’t. I had tried so hard to wear the mask of a man, to be the strong and gentle person she deserved but I couldn't go through this again, never again. Her begging turned to yelling as she threw her sticks and stones at me, they say word can never hurt me but I have never felt that bad. Her angry face and hurtful words shattered me into a million shards. In the mid afternoon sun I put on my mask of a jester once more and I laughed. I laughed and laughed through the pain as I sat upon my tailgate broken and alone, tears streaming down my smiling face as I cackled till the moon was gently shining upon my face. Wanting to die but too weak to do do anything I let my mask crack and slip as I stared as deep as I could into myself, at