A Suicidal Failure

The sharp blade grazed her wrist leaving a thin red line. There were no thoughts, but just a heavy feeling of failure. The burden was so heavy that her heart just sunk into low beats. Thick drops of tears fell on her lap. Her head bent on the table, suddenly a thought flicked in her head, “One less of a burden.”

The pressure increased a bit. This time a thin line of blood trickled down. Her vision blurred by her tears, while the blade continued to graze her wrist with the newly added pressure like a loop. Another thought, “They are not going to be proud of you. Ever.” And the blade suddenly made an almost deep cut. A jolt of reality, and the blade slipped out of her fingers and fell on the ground. “I’m such a coward”, she thought.

She glanced at her wrist. Pattern of thin, red slashes. She picked up the blade again, but the moment was gone.
What was done, was done. Now, what next? Probably those pair of thick bangles given by her friend will hide it? And it worked well. So she thought.

The friend was not fooled. She noticed it, and she was questioned. And questioned with a mad rage, to which she replied, “I had just given up. A coward doesn’t live.”

To which she spat, “Coward? You would have been one if you would have cut deep. Coward you say?

It’s all just a reason for not facing the situation and taking the full responsibility. What were you thinking? What, your score didn’t stand up to your standards? I know, this was not the reason, taste my sarcasm honey, keep up. Is your life so insignificant that you are so dramatically signifying your problem with those slashes? How stupid can you get?

Yes, I am embarrassing you. You ought to be embarrassed!”

The rest of the walk was in silence. Her message was loud and clear: Stand up and fight back. Get out of the monotone of the depressed voice in head and think out of the box.

Cliched you will say.

Years passed by. And she was surprised how all these failures, heart breaks, pain, hurt, et cetra had actually made her strong. Bit pretended devoid of emotions, but strong. ‘The End’ was never again the solution to a concluded dead end. The spine was strong.

And today she smiles. Hums a tune while doing the dishes (which she absolutely hates) Gives small tinkles of laughter when by herself for no reason. Every morning is beautiful than ever. Heart as light as a feather. This, she says is because she is happy and free.

Happy of that suicidal failure.
—..

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