Close to winter I am going to be driving very fast for I have a destination and I want to get there quickly. My normal fill-up on benzos, alcohol and any other pain killer I might find is swimming through my bloodstream coursing casually.
I have the rope; a thick massive plaited seaboat tethered type affair capable of holding me. I don’t weigh much anymore. I can’t remember when I last ate my appetite extinct like my sleep. Rolling over up and down through the sheets for three months restless as a snake being sleep deprived ravages one’s soul to a ghostly wan draft.
I move from the loungeroom saying goodbye to an oblivious mother down to the garage. My souped up old sports car, a Toyota Celica is heavy and reliable. I back out cruising it to the main road where I leadfoot it, pushing down hard on the accellerator. It’s started to rain. The National State Forest where I am going isn’t far and a well kept part of this area. I guffaw silently to myself at the face on whoever finds me, hanging by a trusty heritage tree’s branches.
As I’m driving the car starts spinning out of control. The tyres have got rain on them and the speed I’m going has made it dangerous zigzagging wildly across to the other side of the oncoming traffic. My heart thumps madly as I use all my might to steer the wheel around landing in a soggy ditch opposite the forest. I sit breathing heavily turning the car around back onto the right side and continue.
I leave my ID, wallet and bag on the seat. Locking the door I climb over a locked gate and head deep into the woodland. The long grass climbs my legs as the rain has began to fall harder. I walk further on over stumps and thicket. Coming to a private wire fence cutoff I find a massive old eucalyptus with huge sturdy branches and solid arms and trunk. I begin to climb holding the rope heavy in my hands. I reach a tough knobby wing and sit down. I’m high up now seeing more trees and brushwood.
I wrap the rope around my neck tightening carefully. I stand sturdy ready as I handle the branch. It’s strong, stern. I am waiting, thinking. Prepared to jump I look down. It will take them a few days to find me being right at the back of the deep darkening thicket.
Standing, I think of all my reasons. No future, career gone, broken marriage. Ok go. Ciao! Bye! I don’t move except for a slight bending of my knees. I kneel about to leap but stop. I stand, sit, bend lift a leg; no jumping. I think maybe I could try another way. Not at all sure how much further one could go my thoughts become scrambled, invading my concentrated mind. Sit, stand, bend, down, up. FUCK!!!!! Will somebody just shoot me already! I’m becoming frustrated with the preposterous inability to fulfill a simple task.
Ok. This time I think after 20 minutes. With a big hefty move I just DON’T jump. What the fuck? My incapability adds on to all the other stupid things I have done making me really pissed off and wanting a pure going off. I move to leap into the air and twist my back legs splayed. God almighty! What’s happening! Is the urge to live so potent I can’t die without assistance? Or is it nature getting her own back for me treading in her fine forest and commiting a sin. I start to cry then go blank. After a while I climb down. The trek back to the car seems far greater. I go home.
This story in no way endorses self-harm. If you are in mental anguish please seek help. Mimi Bordeaux
I recently re-edited this story. I think it flows much better now:}