iN heR reD shoeS

I tried to translate my silence into words. Not my silence, but for her. For the unknown girl who took my attention in a hospital. Heard her suicide note was as usual like any other. she drank rat poison and after that, heavy vomit. Was the taste bitter? Thought to ask her, but I didn’t,  because of my usual pathetic hesitation. Somebody said that the rat poison is hellhole. I would like to know the taste of cyanide which interests me. How does the cyanide taste like?. Do all the poisons taste same? I haven’t heard about sweet poison.

“Which school are you from, huh, I am asking you?”,  a rude tone from the doctor.

I could hear the voice from the room when I was sitting in corridor. She didn’t give any reply to the doctor. I think she doesn’t know how to translate her depression.

“I want to talk with your parents, give me the number?”, again the same interrogation from the doctor.

This time she vomited the same ignorance.

Is it easy to describe all our reasons to someone! Suddenly she came out from the doctor’s room. Following her, I saw two class mates with her. Both of them were in school uniform. I saw her face, it was in dark innocent. Is she dying from destitution?

How many suicide attempts are happening per day all over the world. Around one million people have been trying to run out from their body. Exsanguination, Electrocution, Self-defenestrating, Asphyxiation, Sleeping Pills and number of other ways. This is an extreme depression given by milieu. Most of the philosophers have taken their own lives (there is a huge list). When a person sacrificing the self for the nation or some damn religion, people want him/her to offer him/her an honorable line. It’s vicious expectation to ask somebody to destruct them in order to save our lives. Yeah, you are right, I meant the military. If you think, I am politically wrong, I agree with you. But not emotionally. Do we think that we are so smart enough to exclude Amygdala in our brainosphere? We are all normal in our own way.

I’ve started to write a letter to her in my mind,(as usual!)

Dear,

We are not different from anybody. I’m not going to chop you with my rusted lines. I could’ve ask you “why?”, some times questions are tougher than answers. I’m vamoosed from the question zone. If you let this world to drag you anywhere, think, then you are dead already. Hope you are a kind of person who never allow anything or anybody to prevail you. Am I wrong for calling you as dark innocent? I don’t think so. Do we have the moxie to allow the truth to spit on our face? Listen, through suicide, we are killing people who are having affection with us. Unknowingly mixing slow poison in their lives by such decision. I don’t want to know your past, but killing yourself isn’t the answer for your questionable life. Nobody can find the answer for you, but you can create your own. There will be a day for us to share our answers, at a turn. We can find our unknown corners. Hope.

With love
A Stranger

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Alienation, Self-destruction and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to iN heR reD shoeS

  1. chytra says:

    very sensibile…
    thanks
    🙂

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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