How to be Dead
“Guys, I’ll just ask what time will be the last trip to our place, stay right here for a while okay?” Daera instructed, leaving Reiss, Eros, and I, am I supposed to include myself?
“Sure,” Reiss replied before turning towards Eros, who’s looking at the fruit juice stand at our side.
“I want some,” Eros stated pointing at the said stand.
“No!” I screamed. “You’re sick; you’re not supposed to take in cold stuffs.”
I was about to rant more, and then I realized. How can they hear me? I’m just a wandering ghost. I’m dead for Pete's sake. How many times do I have to tell myself that I’m gone? I sighed. At least I need to vent out my frustrations, and wish that somehow my screams would reach them.
“I’ll give the money, you buy,” Reiss bargained making me puff my cheeks in anger.
I glared at Reiss even though he can’t see me as I ranted. “Stop it! He’s sick you’re not supposed to tolerate him.”
“Reiss hand me the money,” Eros demanded making some weird hand gestures and some form of eyebrow dancing.
“Give him, and I’ll murder you,” I threatened as I continue glaring at Reiss. Didn't they know about the paranormal phenomena caused by restless ghosts? Oh wait, am I planning to turn into a poltergeist?
“Let’s cut it out before we get killed Eros,” Reiss finally announced, turning back to look at Daera who was approaching our circle.
Thank the Heavens. Yeah, Daera and I usually scold these kids; you heard it right I called them kids, whenever they do something reckless. I roamed my eyes around and saw some kids playing and goofing around while their parents keep an eye on them. How can kids get so close with each other so fast?
It took me a month or two to get so close with Eros, one whole semester with Daera and Clarck, with Reiss? Well, it all started with an awful lot of group messages and useless talks about anything under the sun. But our most favorite topic was Daera.
I sighed once more as I got myself submerged in Daera’s eyes, they hold so many problems, and a great amount of pain, but I’m happy because they still have their light. Other than hers being a dark shade of brown while mines were one of those tawny brown eyes that weren’t normal for our raise, everything that her eyes reflects reminds me of my own.
“Hon, is there any problem?” my mom asked through the phone, her voice was calm yet I know the darkest side of her.
“Nothing, just adjustments,” I lied, even though I know what’s eating me up. I can no longer hold you see.
Last weekend, Daera went suicidal and somehow it awakened my memories that were kept hidden in a box in the darkest and farthest corner of my mind. I felt it, the way, the need, and the desire to die, because of what? For others to be happy and finally be at peace.
“Hon, just tell mommy,” she insisted.
“Don’t be mad okay?” I told her, and not even waiting for an answer I blurted it out. “Mom, I tried committing suicide when I was 13, and did it again when I turned 14.”
People wouldn’t understand why. When they learn about the truth about me they’d say how much of a coward I am for trying to claim my life by my own hands. But I did, I saw my own blood seeping on the sheets of my bed as the knife I used to ram my leg in search of my femoral artery was on my hand as I continued. Left, right, but I never found it. Pain and fatigue got the best of me that instead of continuing I got myself knocked out. Gosh, I hadn't even gone deep enough to make myself bleed to death.
I woke up to the gory state of my bed, blood stained knife, sheets and handkerchief. Funny, how the used to be bright yellow handkerchief turned into a red one with yellow accents? The cut was there but I didn’t mind, I grabbed some bandages and placed it on my exposed flesh, and wore some loose pants to cover it up. I currently limp but soon enough I’ll get used with the pain and will be able to walk normally as if nothing happened. One thing I like about my body, no scar remains even how deep a wound goes.
People don’t commit suicide because they want to die. For Pete’s sake no one would want to die, but they did this to escape from pain, to run away from the agony. It’s because they believe that everything would be better if they just vanish from the face of the Earth. Nothing is cowardice with this act, they who committed, should be regarded as brave because they confronted their pain head on. But no, we get judged the moment people learned how we tried to end our sufferings, because our method is something that’s not accepted by society. What’s more? We get judged without knowing our pasts, and the demons we try to outrun. While alive, they just don't care but after it's done they'd be flocking around saying their condolences and how sorry they were for not knowing, well in fact if you only look closely you'll see the pain.
They saw me go through the phase. All of them did, but none paid attention. They thought it was just me seeking attention. My teacher in 3rd grade once scolded me so hard and even sent me to the principal's office after i wrote a poem on death, they saw me lose all my interest: things that made me happy before doesn't please me anymore, I slowly gave my things away, and by the end of grade school I was already prepared. By middle school, called all my friends, well, my friend and bid her goodbye, before I chopped all of my hair. But all my preparations didn't matter, because I survived.
‘You fought with your mom? I just can’t do that,’ Reis texted me in reply to my recent group message.
The moment I read his message it echoed in my brain a number of times, crushing me with every syllable uttered, as tears welled out from my eyes.
‘You fought with your mom? I just can’t do that.’ No! Please stop, I don’t want to hear that anymore.
‘You fought with your mom? I just can’t do that.’ I beg of you, please stop! It’s not like that! Please.
‘You fought with your mom? I just can’t do that.’ Reiss it’s not like what it seems to be!
‘You fought with your mom? I just can’t do that.’ Reiss, I’m not that bad! Please just stop!
I grabbed my pillow and used it to cover my ears in attempt to tune out the voice inside my head, but I can hear them- No matter what I do it wouldn’t stop, it doesn’t want to stop. I felt my phone vibrate and immediately unlocked it to reply, when I read Reiss name on the alert screen.
‘The way you texted me a while back, when you said the words ‘You fought with your mom? I just can’t do that’ just got me bursting into tears. It made feel like I’m nothing but an insolent child of my parents.’ I didn’t bother re-reading and immediately sent it, as tears continue to pour as it clouds my vision.
In a span of three minutes I received his reply, ‘I didn’t know… I just thought… It made me look so bad.’
‘It made me look so bad.’ And my world just crashed. Why can’t I do something good? Why can’t I do something better?
‘It made me look so bad.’ I’m sorry.
‘It made me look so bad.’ I’m sorry Reiss, I didn’t mean to.
‘It made me look so bad.’ I’m so sorry.
‘It made me look so bad.’ Please forgive me.
‘Hey shush, I should be the one saying sorry. I’m sorry Eris; I just didn’t know what you’re going through…’ he replied.
I am Eris Wate, the second child of a fairly rich family; my mom is a bank manager, while my dad is an agriculturist. I don’t know what happened; I can say my life is fairly good in terms of money, and school. In the eyes of others my life is perfect because what they see every time my family is complete were those of smiles, laughter and love. What lies behind them?
I was physically abused; I get hit, and beaten almost every day of my life by none other than my mom. Chairs, leather belts, whips, ropes, cords, brooms, paddles, block of wood, hangers, name it; my mom already used that on me to vent out her frustrations. In her eyes I'm nothing but a doll to vent her frustrations out, it was torture. She doesn’t even bother hiding it; she does it whenever she wants. She bad mouths me to others, and shames me before them. God! She even took away my childhood.
I pretend to have a nice childhood; I pretend to have enjoyed all those crazy games children of my generation had experienced. But I tell you, I never got the chance. My mom never bought me even a single doll, or even a stuffed toy, she forced me into learning things beyond my league and made me do things that children at my age can’t.
Instead of a nice childhood, all I received were bruises, threats, pain and immediate punishment every time I make a mistake. Every time I fail, and don’t know what to do.
High School I finally had enough, I tried to end my life, twice. But I survived. I’m also human, I get tired, I get so damn tired of putting up a front, I’m so tired of telling people I’m okay when I’m not. I’m so tired of wearing make-up every day to school to cover up. I’m just tired.
I withdrew from society; I lock myself up because of pain. I don’t like hearing anything that resembles screaming, I usually freeze, I hate seeing children so close with their parents, I’m scared that what happened to me will happen to them, I don’t like crowded places, I feel so suffocated by people’s nonexistent glares, and most of all I don’t like myself, because I’ve become so selfish and inconsiderate. I hate myself, I want to die, everyone is better off without me.
I told Reiss every single detail, and he accepted them all. He gave me advise but all I can think of that moment was ‘I don’t want to burden you with things that doesn’t concern you.’
I’m already broken and nothing can fix me. I can't even imagine myself growing up anymore.
I survived two suicide attempts, but now I’m dead. I got what I wanted but for someone who had wanted to die so hard, why does it pain me every time I try to imagine their future without me. I’m a ghost now, nothing’s supposed to hurt me anymore, but why can I feel myself breaking? Why can I hear myself crumbling?
I stared at Daera, Eros and Reiss, before turning around and free myself from them for a while. They’ll be better off when I crossed the other side; they’ll be rid of this burden of theirs. Maybe….