Fucked up minds

When you do something bad, it feels like a horrible dream. Actually, you pray more than ever in that moment, wishing it was all a dream. Because why would you ever do something like that, when you’re in your right mind? This is my worst nightmare come true, my reality.

It’s 7:15 pm. I think I’m going to do it. I have to. What else do I have to live for right? I know I’ve been wondering about it for a while. I should just do it. It’ll happen quickly. I hope it happens quickly. I don’t want it to hurt. Who would ever want this to hurt? Right?

Should I do it? I should. No one loves me. No one does. Mom and Dad are upset too. Rishaal is never there, and we’ve never even had a heart to heart conversation either. Ever. I know I love him. He’s my brother. But I don’t think he does. I respect him so much. He’s my idol. I want to be like him when I grow up. But I guess I won’t have to anymore right?

Are you wondering whom I’m talking to? Good question. But I wish I knew. Maybe some higher force? Myself? We’ll never know.

Maybe I should call Simran and talk to her about this. She’ll be able to console me. I think.

-No answer.

Okay, I’ll call Kiran.

-No answer, again.

I’ll call Sam. But why will he pick up? We haven’t spoken in two months. He knew he was in the wrong, but he still doesn’t have the courage to pick up his phone and apologize? It’s okay. I’ll call him anyway.

If you guessed he didn’t pick up the call, you guessed right. I wonder why that happens. Why don’t they pick up when you really need them? At 21, I still don’t understand. We have phones, emails, and profiles on various social media platforms; and yet when you really need someone — silence. Or maybe shit like that happens only to me? No. I’m not that special in this universe. I’m just a spec.

Clearly this is a sign that no one cares about me. The world would be a better place without me. There’s no one who loves me. No more debating. It’s time.

What can I take? Pills? Poison? Train? A knife?

No a knife will be painful and there will be blood splattered everywhere. Pills. That’s the best option. I’ll just rummage through all the medicines we have and I’ll take an assortment of them. How long will it take? 15 minutes maybe? I will probably feel dizzy and then just go to sleep. That’s usually what happens in the movies.

Yes, I relied on movies on how to kill myself. It’s that easy. Media displays things to you from a young age on how to be good and what to do and how to be. But they do that by showing you what the wrong things are. So I might be watching a video or reading a book where someone kills herself. The moral might be not to do it. But now I’m embedded with new information on how to kill myself, in the best way possible, without even realising it. The same goes for this story I’m narrating. I’m telling you how you can kill yourself.

Ironic isn’t it?

Alright, I have about fifteen pills. That should be sufficient. I hope.

Ten more left. Five more. One more.

I did it.

But nothing’s happening. I’ll wait.

My phone’s ringing. Why is my phone ringing? Who’s calling me?


“Hi Leah! Sorry I was out. What’s up?”

“Oh hi Simran.”

“What happened? You sound weird.”

“I did something.”

“What did you do?”

“I’m going to write them a letter. Tell them to open my laptop and read it okay?”

“What are you talking about? Did you do something…”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s done. Just make sure they read it okay?”


“Bye Simran. I’ll miss you.”

Selfish right? Not to mention over dramatic. But in this particular scenario, we can let that go. When I was considering killing myself with a knife, I didn’t care that there would be blood everywhere and someone would have to clean up after me. All I cared about was whether it would hurt me or not. I would be dead minutes later, but I was still only thinking about me.

It has been 17 minutes. Why isn’t anything happening? I should probably finish writing that letter.

“Dear mom and dad,

I’m sorry we fought today. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment. I didn’t mean to be…”

Why isn’t anything happening? I need something else to fasten this process.

There’s Harpic in the bathroom. I’ll take some of that. Yes.

Okay, not too much. It smells weird.

Am I sure I want to do this? Am I sure I should do this? Okay just take it.

This is awful! What have I done? I can’t stop throwing up. I can’t stop coughing. What have I done? Am I going to die? No. I don’t want to. I can’t. I want to live. I want to make things right. I want to grow old and see Rishaal get married. I have to be best friends with my sister-in-law. I have to get married. I want Sam. I have to tell him I love him. No, no, no. This isn’t happening. I can’t do this to mom and dad. What will happen to ajji?

I…I…I’m feeling a bit dizzy and my stomach feels weird. I need to call mom.

Why isn’t she picking up? I have to go to the hospital.

I’ll call Rishaal.


“Rishaal, It’s me. I’ve done something awful.”

“What did you do Niv?”

“I tried to kill myself. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to die Rishaal. I tried calling mom, but she’s not picking up. I don’t know what to do…”

“What?! What did you take?”

“Some pills and harpic. I don’t feel good…”

“I’m going to call her okay? Just sit down. Don’t go anywhere. I’m calling her.”


What have I done? Just because some people screwed me over, I’m going to kill myself? I’m such an idiot. How could I have done this? I need to fight this. It’s so selfish of me. I’m only doing this for attention. Just so people pay attention to me? How could I have stooped so low? This is beyond pathetic.

And finally the realization. But as always, it’s too late. I hate having to learn things the hard way you know… But here we are — a stupid decision, 15 pills and a sip of rat poison later. I lived as you can see. But at what cost? Mistrust, self loathing, disappointment, fear, a broken heart and more negative thoughts were the only bubbles that floated over my head.

Thankfully, I can say that in past tense. I got lucky. But what can I say to someone who went all out by slitting his/her wrists or jumped in front of the train or jumped off a building? Or someone who is trying to? Is there anything to say?

I’ve read books where the author is talking about self-redemption and how it was the worst mistake of his life. I get all that. And I can agree to an extent. But what about the part where we’re asked not to repeat their mistakes? It’s something we hear often. It’s called Advise. But the thing is, I knew what I was doing was wrong. People know when they’re doing something wrong — with a few exceptions of course — but they do it anyway.

So I’m not going to turn my experience into some kind of moral that you read and forget the next minute, because it isn’t something frivolous. Heck, it’s my story. It’s what made me into the person I am today.

But I will share with you a quote I often tell myself to get through the day, “At the end of the day, people will do what they want to in that moment. Because in that moment, there’s no one else but you and your fucked up mind.”

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