After I Drowned
A short story
While I lived, I took many things for granted.
I had not realised the comforting warmth of the summer breeze during the vacation with my parents, nor did I cherish the presence of my loved ones. I did not dwell on their thoughts. I believed that perceiving the world negatively, in the dull shades of black-and-white, was all I lived for.
I believed the world to be an ugly, snarling creature. In my mind, life was an adventure full of greatness, infected by undefeatable darkness. When I held out my hand for someone, only death — no, the thought of death — took it with such irresistible gentleness.
It was all I had.
Nobody understood, I thought. I had not shared my feelings, but others should have known.
While I lived, I took many things for granted.
I believed that my interests and hobbies defined me, and I worked towards it. It was my only encouragement and life I strived to achieve, but I shattered it. I turned at the possibility of rejection, and I ran from opportunities that could have brought me somewhere.
Too late; I was dead.
It was a rash decision, but it had seemed so intelligent. The promise of death corrupted me like a virus, seizing hold of my life with such intensity. I gave in with too little of a fight.
While I lived, I took many things for granted.
Most of all, however, I took myself for granted.
I had a life before me, one that still could potentially become beautiful. I made a reckless, ridiculous decision and dove deep into a welcoming ocean, noticing its vile intentions too late.
That day, I braided my hair and wore my favourite outfit — a comfortable and enchanting dress sewn by a talented individual who undoubtedly spent hours with their delicate fingers. I had so many clothes in my closet, purchased by my parents with a sigh.
A nauseous wave of hesitation bit at me as I stood atop a bridge. Stretching deep into the earth and beyond my vision was a massive ocean that would soon claim my life. A knot had formed in my throat, tightening my throat and restricting my breathing. If only I gave in to that, instead of the stupendous body of water. I had imagined arms erupting from deep inside the ocean and gesturing for me to jump.
It will be quick, said the ocean. Or was it my mind that voiced it? It will be over in a second.
I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of waves crashing the rocks with such delight. Listening to the squalling of birds as they travelled with their kind alongside them. Then, I diverted my attention to the smell that surrounded me — fresh and salty. I inhaled, taking it all in.
I smiled, possibly for the last time as a gentle breeze caressed my face, as soft as a feather’s touch.
Then, I opened my eyes, and the world crashed down on me again—the loss of hope, the realisation that nothing mattered, the negativity.
I beheld the sight of the glistening sun, hurling rays of gold onto the earth. It painted me with specks of light, whispering incessantly that my life was worth more than the challenges I faced. If only I gave in then.
A quiet sob escaped my mouth as I leapt.
I imagined it to be a relief. I believed jumping meant the end of everything — my life, challenges and problems.
Yet, all I felt was regret.
I regretted everything.
As the ocean engulfed me, I realised how much I had lost instead. Then, I wished for nothing more than to be back home, surrounded by the people who loved me. I thought of their faces, grief-stricken when they heard after hearing what I had done.
I was worth so much more but was too blind to notice.
The image of my family flooded my mind just as the water washed away my life. It showed me my loved ones, weeping with overwhelming despair. They asked the world for the reason I took my life as though they were blaming themselves, as though they were not the people I cherished the most. I wondered about how much I enjoyed writing and how I would never touch another pen again. Anguish haunted me as I allowed myself to think about everything I had and left behind.
I thought nobody would notice after I was gone. Perhaps, there would be those who were glad of my absence.
I discovered how wrong I was only after I felt my life drain.
All that resounded in my mind was a litany of how much I did not want to die. My life was all I had, yet I surrendered it to the ocean as a bargain for peace. It was a trade that had once sounded intelligent.
I learnt too late that I wanted to live and feel the summer breeze again, to love, to breathe. There was silence about me that carried not serenity, but chaos. I struggled as the water claimed my life, second by second.
As sudden as a terminal disease, I realised how much my life meant to me and how careless I was to hurl it into the ravenous and brutal sea.
While I lived, I took many things for granted.
I wish I hadn’t.
