The End of Sorrow (Part 1)

I felt a little inspired and I decided to start to write a story. I got through part of I and decided that I wanted to make it longer and break it into sections so this is section 1.

That’s all it is. A waste of time. I lay in my room where the sun won’t shine on me and I won’t be bothered. I didn’t deserve to be born. But for some strange reason I was. So I became this ugly, stupid, useless, waste of space piece of garbage person who deserves to live out his day alone and miserable until I die a sad death alone in a dark room.

- Seth

Day 1:

I get ready for bed and I have a strange premonition. I feel as though somehow tomorrow will be different and that It might be a good day for the first time in a while. I don’t question it. It’s a good feeling and I want to hold on to it for as long as I can.

Day 2:

But another day of school comes and goes. I find my seat in the back corner of the classroom and I feel myself slowly fading away, like every other day. Being hopeful last night and wanting a happy day just seemed like a silly fantasy by now. Spending a day at school with no friends leaves you feeling pretty empty. I pull out my sketchbook to escape the emptiness that I feel and I start sketching.

I sketch the place I want to be in, a paradise, a place that my parents don’t fight all the time and they actually have conversations and love each other. The walls of my room are covered with my drawings. My room is the only place I like to be it is a place where I can stay forever and draw to my hearts content and a place where I feel safe. When I’m not drawing I spend my time daydreaming. I imagine that I am a popular person who people pay attention to and care about. I want to live in those dream so I can escape reality. But I know a place like that can never exist for somebody like me. I don’t deserve it.

Sadly my parents hate each other and fight all the time and they are only still together because neither of them want to get stuck with me by themselves. They never wanted a son. They remind me of that every time I ask for lunch money or I ask them to drive me to school so I can avoid the rain.

My room is a dingy little closet and my father rips up all my drawing when he gets stressed, he calls them a stupid waste of time and he rips them apart. And the people in my school either make fun of me or don’t even know I exist.

The bell rings and I am awakened from my despondent reverie. It is time for lunch. I go to the little crevice between the old broken down vending machines and eat my lunch alone like every other day. The sounds of the vending machines shooting out cans of soda and the distant laughter of my classmates keep me company. I go to my next class and we have to do work with a partner there are 23 people in this class so I work alone in the back like usual. When the last bell rings I put my things away into my locker. I get on my bike and quickly ride towards my house looking forward to the silent and beautifully dark sanctum that is my bedroom, but on my way through the park I see a crow sitting in a nest of a tree with leaves dancing beautifully above it as it lays in silent repose. I quickly chain my bike to the park fence and grab my sketch pad.

I find a bench and I begin sketching the bird over and over from different angles and different perspective. Then hours later I get up to go home it has become dark and I can no longer see the crow. I look at my watch and it is 8:00. I get my bike and I speed home dreading a lecture from my mom and dad like any other teenager. I get home and my mom is in the kitchen and my father is on the couch they both look at me and say nothing. I was confused until it occurred to me that they really don’t give a damn. If i disappear it is just one less mouth to feed. I don’t know why I felt like today would be different.

The next few days of school were just the same. I went to find that crow everyday and I draw it till I could no longer see the crow in the night.

Day 4:

It is Saturday. I head to my therapist session. Another hour of hearing him go on and on about how I don’t have friends because I am not self confident enough and that I’m not self confident enough because I have no friends. I don’t know why I am at this therapist anyways. My parents don’t want to pay but my guidance counselor recommended it and my mother “Won’t have those people thinking she is a bad mother!”.

So I’m stuck here.

Day 8:

Then one day when I went to the park the crow and its nest are nowhere to be found. That night when I go to sleep I have a nightmare that left me shaking.

“My father rushes up the stairs hits me aside in anger. Filled with rage he rips apart my drawings. All my sketchbooks gone all my hard work my heart and soul shattered.

The he storms down the stairs yelling “You can leave if you want but take the f*@#ing kid with you”. Then I hear the door slam. My father yells “ Don’t ever come back you stupid bitch”. Then I hear him running up the stairs again. I jump on my bed so he doesn’t know I was listening through the door. He enters and shouts “I’m not taking care of a worthless runt like yourself, GET OUT! He slams the door shut. I feel a pool of tears flowing from my eyes. From my tear blurred eyes I see that one of the crow drawings remains in tact on the floor, I grab the exact-o knife from my desk. I stand above my last illustration and cut my wrist. My blood erased my last drawing and with the crows image my life disappeared.”

Day 9:

I wake up the net morning crying and shaking. All my hope for a better day shattered. I get to the school I chain up my bike to the rack and make my way to home room. Along the way I hear whispers of a new girl entering our class. I get to home room and I take my seat. When the first bell rings the new girl enters the room and stands in the floor of the classroom.

“Hello my name is Lucy. I came from Stuyvesant High School in New York City. I used to go to school in this area when I was 7 years old, but then my father office moved, but now they moved back.”

Lucy….hmmm…. she looks very familiar. Not that it mattered. No matter who she was she wouldn’t talk to me. Another teacher walked into the room and asked our home room teacher to come into the hall. He told her to take a seat while he talked to the other teacher. She headed towards the empty seat next to me but stopped when someone shouted “ Don’t sit next to sob-story Seth, the boy who always cries. Gloominess might be contagious.”. Half of the class starts laughing and the other half looks around wondering who Seth is. She stopped at the desk of the shouting boy, smiled and said “Good one”. Upon hearing that I started to recede farther into my seat and start sulking. Then something different happened she raise her hand into the air and smack the boy with all her might. I was blow back as she said “Don’t talk about Seth like that!”

She knows my name!?!? What!?!? I couldn’t hold back the shocked expression on my face as the whole class turns and looks at me thinking “ He has friends”.

Then things went bad. The one who I thought could have been my first friend in a long time had a change of attitude, she said “ He doesn’t need you to remind him he is loser. He already knows. That’s why he sits alone in that corner probably crying all day.” Then she cracked a devilish smile. That destroyed me. Every last morsel of self confidence I had shattered at that very moment. I spent the rest of the day in shock just going through the motions.

Last Entry:

I arrived home to hear my mother and father arguing with each other. I walked up the stairs and into my room. I sat on my bed and cried. It felt like I was crying forever. I couldn’t take it anymore; nothing in life was good and it wasn’t worth all the effort. I grabbed the “emergency” rope” I had taken from my father’s garage awhile back. I tied it into a hangman’s noose. It was familiar. It was a knot that I had tied many times before for practice. I tied it to the handle of my windowsill and slipped it around my neck. I thought back to all the times I felt worthless and isolated and I jumped out of the window. I struggled for awhile wondering if I had made the wrong decision but, I knew I was doing the right thing. I couldn’t handle this anymore. I felt the life slowly draining out of me and it was over.

Or… So I thought.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s