The Sounds of Failure

By buckdiddy



The slits in my wrists, not vertical but horizontal, are…not…bleeding. Not one measley drop of that crimson liquid pours from my wounds. I take the razors and slit more than a theif in a candy store. Nothing! Not a damn thing.

I’ve been trying for days now to commit suicide but nothing works. I tied a noose to my ceiling fan. I did the right knots for it; running bowline, the tarbuck knot, and the slip knot. But the funny thing is once I kicked the chair away from me I just hung there. Four hours of just hanging there and no sensation of choking. I thought maybe if I kicked and wriggled around like a worm on a hook something might happen but nothing. So I just swung around until the ceiling fan broke and landed on top of me. Not even that gave me any sort of bruising.

Just the other day I swerved my bicycle into oncoming traffic, got hit by a Subaru, flew flipping over it and landed into a plush grassy yard. Bermuda grass to be detailed. It was soft. The softest grass I ever felt before. And you know what I got for that? No cuts, no scrapes, no broken bones…NOTHING! Just grass stains and 30-something soccer mom screaming at me at why I would do that. I did not exchange information or anything of that nature. Fuck her, I’m trying to kill myself here.

Seriously, I try so hard for the first time and what do I get? Same thing I get for not trying, the big goose egg. I jumped off the top of my four storied apartment complex a few days later. As fate would have it, I did not die. The empty three foot deep pool did nothing to me. It made more cracks than me. Death simply does not want me.

But today is different. Today is the day I complete what I want, what I need. I just slid the full clip into the Beretta 92FS INOX Stainless 9mm. Just bought it, it is still shiny. I turn the saftey off and cock the gun. I’m laughing hysterically, this has to work. I continue laughing as I put the gun directly on my temple. Straight to the brain. I shake a little bit but Carl of Carl’s Gun and Ammo assured me that’s normal. Breathe, just breathe. You can do it! Count down. Three…two…ONE!!! *BANG*…FUCK!!!

Straight through the bullet went. Brains splattered across the wall behind me and the window as well. The bullet went in and out and the bullet sunk into the ceiling. Blood pools around my lifeless and limp body. The gun smokes bellows into my face as the gun as my left hand is still holding onto it in front of me. My arm appears broken from the fall. It is sitting very awkwardly, it has to be broke. Blood drips down into my eyes and I think I see a bone sticking out. I can’t distinguish myself between the floor and the blood now. Everything is going hazy and grey.

Wait a tick. If this worked as planned shouldn’t I be seeing pearly gates or the river sticks of hell? Where is the stairway to heaven? Where is God? Where is Zeus? Where is my grandma Patricia. Someone, something out there tell me my outcome.

A gasp? A gasp? Oh shit, did I just take a breath? And another? Oh God no. No, no, no. Where’s my left arm? It’s broken move it. You can see it out through the blood. There! Is it broken? No bone, I see no bone! Damnit, I’m still alive. Sirens?! I hear sirens. I finally blink and when I open up my eyes there stands cops, firefighters, EMTs, my next door neighbor…everyone. They speak to me but I can’t hear a word. I see the mouths moving but their voices are non-existent in my mind. I hear nothing but the sounds of failure.

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The Sounds of Failure

Created: Mar 08, 2010

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