The Pride In My Veins

I hear siren sounds as I slowly attempt to open my eyelids, which for some odd reason I’m having difficulties doing so. The siren sound gets louder as my heartbeat slowly begins to sneak up quietly. I’m having trouble remembering the last time I heard or felt my heartbeat; wait! Did I die?…..Or am I already dead?

I open my eyelids and notice I am laid up against the wall in a dark alley. Am I paralyze? Because my body is unable to synchronize with the thoughts in my head telling it to move. I’m having trouble making sense of all this. …Am I dead?…Or is this a nightmare?

Out of fear I began to question my life and I began to question the purpose of life? I start reminiscing about how good my life used to be, “I was a dreamer, a believer,” but my life took a turn for the worst after my wife and I got a divorce. She took everything, including my son. Everything I worked hard for is gone. I filed for bankruptcy and felt like I was too old to start a new journey all over again.

I fell into a deep depression, I needed help, but I felt like I was too deep in the depression for anyone to hear me cry for help. As I continue to remember in the alley, my vision becomes blurry and I feel like I can no longer keep my eyelids open. The sound of my heartbeat begins to slow down as the siren sounds get closer. My eyelids get heavier and heavier while my body is shaking uncontrollably. I finally realized I hit rock bottom and all that is left for me to do is cry myself to sleep.

I want to open my eyes and let all the tears out, but instead, my eyes are rolled up in the back of my head as my sour tears stream down the pipeline of my lonely soul. I know my tears are sour because I can taste it….or am I tasting the white foams that’re coming out of my mouth?

“Damn,” am I overdosing because of the hypodermic needle that’s deep inside the veins in my left arm? Or is it because of the pride in my veins that prevented me from asking for help due to the fear of being shamed by my peers for being a failure?

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