It Wasn't Me That Died That DayI remember being thirteen and foolish: stress over school, the fear of disappointing my mother. I vaguely recall joking with my friend as the school bell rang that afternoon that if I killed myself he owed me a bag of cheese puffs. I recall getting on the bus and wanting to call my dad because I was afraid to tell my mom my grades. I chose not to. I got home, got on my webcam and sent a message to my penpal in South Africa 'Want to see me kill myself?'. He said sure. Looking back, I hope I didn’t scar the boy…he was after all just my age and we never spoke again after that incident.
I took a bunch of random over the counter pills, obviously not nearly enough to kill me if I'm still here typing this message. I then downed half a bottle of Nyquil and decided to go for a walk with an older friend who lived across the street because I thought the walk would move the drugs through my system quicker. What memories I haven't been able to repress were the ones of fear and regret. The whole day was a blur to me now. I remember coming back from the walk and the Nyquil making tired so I went to sleep in hopes that I wouldn’t wake up again. I do recall asking to no one in particular ‘What would happen if I died today?’
A little later in the evening, I saw the lights of a police car in our drive way. I thought nothing of it. Most likely it was just something about my mom’s new boyfriend who had just gotten out of jail, and was back in there again at the time, because we had his son and the mother knew we had no custody rights over the baby. I went back to sleep. A few hours later my mom woke me up, when I refused to get out of bed she told me something had happened to my father. I remember feeling my heart clench as I shakily climbed down from the top bunk. She took me into the living room. We sat on the sofa and I remember the anxiety and all the possibilities running through my head. I remember her talking to me but not what was said. All I remember are the words ‘Your dad was in a bad car crash…he didn’t make it. I wanted to tell you now because it’s going to be on the ten o’clock news.’ I remember the feeling the air being torn from my lungs, I collapsed back on the sofa and tried to breathe. I don’t remember much at this point as I was in hysterics…but seeing his car totalled on the television had me screaming and crying all the more. I shouldn’t have looked, but I wanted to. I had to be sure this wasn’t some cruel sick joke.
On the day I tried to kill myself, my father was killed in a car accident. It pains me to think I was the one who almost caused my family the same pain and I vowed to live for my father on that day, since he couldn’t be here to live life with me. I won’t lie and say I haven’t had suicidal thoughts since then, I have. But I’m here, I’m alive. I see a counsellor to deal with my grief and various other little issues, having someone to talk to is nice.
I mentioned earlier that I asked before going to sleep ‘What would happen if I died today?’
I’m still not sure if I got my answer, but in a cruel way it seems as if the universe wanted to say ‘It would kill your dad’.
¬I apologise for the lack of quality in my writing, its 5am and I haven’t slept tonight¬