Suicidal Tendencies

It was one of those rare days during which both of your parents and friends succeed in depressing you, when your crush shares her chocolate with your more-handsome classmate, when your parents come to know that you were bunking the physics class and come to the conclusion that you were hanging out with a girl, when in reality you were studying for your chemistry coaching test at a friend's house. It was one of those days...

After hearing too much about my diminishing character and my moralities, I slammed the doors on my parents' back and threw myself on the bed with all the anger I could muster little realising that I broke another plastic measuring scale of mine. Tears came down the face, how they all could hate me so much. I am not that bad, maybe I am but still... and I kept on forming stories of my torture through my loved ones' hands. As the self pity poured itself over me, I decided that it was time for another suicide planning, but this time I wanted it to be something big, something which may even rock brick obama out of his beer concerts. Of course my limited imagination didn't get hold of such a self destructive scenario, but I still managed to kill myself in a real pathetic way.

Figure this -

I go to the central main market of the town equipped with a wooden log, a tank of petrol, a golden lighter, and a rope. I steal a stair from one of the shop (my last sin of bravery). I figure out an electric pole which is centrally located to the market. Pull up myself on it, and then put on the petrol on all my limbs, tie my hands to the log of wood, and just like jesus christ I hang there. The only change - I blaze my limbs with fire with the help of the lighter.

So just imagine it - My limbs all burning bright and I am shivering and thrashing myself like mad, but I am contained to that position just like a cross signifying how cross and gross I must have been with myself when I mutilated myself to such a fate... Just imagine.

Now let's come to the economics part - After such a heroic suicide, the morning comes. The first person to see me in the condition, will bag the bragging rights of being a rock-solid person at heart, and he will proudly tell his children, "the body was hanging in front of me, and blood was oozing out of it, even then I didn't faint" The amount of confidence that will be filled in his life will be enormous, who knows he may go on to become the next president of the country. The journalist who will cover all this will have the start to a golder career, no matter how dumb he may be. Same goes for the cameraman. The news channel that will show this 'breaking news' to the country first will have a week full of high TRPs. The psychologist who will try to disassemble my state of mind in front of the camera will instantly get a life-long stock of lame patients(children) who tried to cut their veins, and he will also get himself a column in the local newspaper, "How to handle your children, so that they don't try to commit badly planned suicides". The headlines will be sensational, "Blogger burning". The image of my burning corpse will go poster hit, and will be printed on shirts which punks and geeks will likewise buy. Small toys based on me will start selling, I will be the next 'voodoo' thing. The central market will get a makeover, and become a tourist spot adding joy to the banks of the shopkeepers. A place of worship will be installed in my name under the pole. Students when passing in front of my worship place will seek blessings and encouragement from me. A new found energy will spread through the youth. And I guess the government will be tricked again to think that this guy committed suicide due to examination pressure and who knows that they will do away with 12th boards also. I can't help shouting in joy that how thankful the teens will be to me. Some small time writer will stalk my parents and my not-so-good relatives, and write a novel on my life and the circumstances that led me out of mortal life. It will be a hit (at least the cheap paperback will be) the pirated copy sellers will be able to buy cars out of the money they will make from the novel on me, the next big thing after "The Da vinci code" and the small time writer will become a billionaire and another struggling publishing house will get a new lease of life. My blog will get the highest hits on the internet for the week, giving google another chance to put up advertisements on my blog and earn lots of money (once again). And who knows if pink floyd who have a thing for depression will sing a hit dance single on the events my suicide. New websites will be opened on me, and the imaginative FBI will cry foul play and different theories will start circulating making me more famous and important than that pretty girl called Princess Diana. I surely will occupy half the dinner time of the families around the world. I will go immortal in one night. Even the whole United Nations couldn't have planned such an inclusive stimulus pack for the world which would help the poor and rich at the same time.

But I decided that I am better at living, and who knows my life could do a little better for the world than my death. And with the thought I rolled over feeling the broken pieces of the scale getting embedded in my back and slept.

P.S. - The world is so full of possibilities..

Dazed.

Feels like an overturned ship blasted,

Seems like blunt stones on my head casted.

All walls look ready to go red,

With my blood I will get it fed.

I run and run in the hope of being overrun by someone,

If that doesn't happen I want to be hit by that bullet in that gun.

Scratch my skin, peel it off, get it burnt,

I want to be naked is what I have learnt.

Suffering seems like so far off the land,

Touch me, comfort me by holding my hand.

I never and don't want to die,

I want to be near it and cry.

It is not what I need or deserve,

It is what all is left in my life reserve.

The things hold no meaning for me,

Even the city seems like a vast sea.

The gates are crashing, mirrors are cracking,

I am losing, I am tired but I am not backing.

Even the most obsolete thing is able to win over me,

I can't do anything, I am a broken tree.

My friends look like enemies to my eyes,

I try hard to remember their jubilant cries.

The good memories have deserted my soul,

My vices are pushing me into a dark hole.

The urge to smile till my last breath has gone,

Kiss me away like dust in a desert and I will go on and on.

Now I need and want to die,

I need to cry and say my goodbye.