Suicide note

Page 1

Suicide Note It was another moment for him to celebrate melancholy. The moment of festive darkness and gloominess. He was so much so one with murk that it had turned into his twin flame. No drop of light would please him as darkness had gently resided in a corner of hearts of his heart. Every moment he was inhaling darkness; as if it had usurped all his veins and turned red blood into dark. He opened his eyes. Turned his eyeballs in all the corners of his room. Alas there was not a single corner at his sight. What he could experience was a void of darkness. All his senses were succumbing to black hollowness. He closed his eyes gently in an attempt to be one with ever awaiting serene slumber and yielded all his senses to the melancholically sweetest words of the lyrics of his heart. Loaded with soothing music and metaphorical words, the lyrics please the senses utmost. Sometimes the sound brings smell. Smell of unextinguished mist of memories. They smell sweet, sour, sometime, bitter; but the only smell that he could inhale was the melancholy. Each of pricking words, sorrowful memories, was peeling off the skin of his soul gently. Like a corpse on pyre, he lied motionless on bed and trespassed all physical boundaries of time in an attempt of being one with his lost self. But alas! He soon realized: what is lost, is lost; and by no mean can be regained. The time is linear having no returning point. One cannot erase the past; one has to overwrite it. Aloud thoughts hammered his brain and he, regaining all consciousness unconsciously, rose from his bed. He headed towards wooden cupboard with a mirror in search of his diary. Startled with a glance in the mirror, he turned into a standstill. Narrowing eyes with raising brows, he leant forward. It was a shadowy resemblance to his figure framed in a glass. A shiver passed through to his body. That dark figure was a ghost; the ghost of his self. It was a reflection of his quest. One does not see with eyes; one sees with brain. All his brain was full of gloom. Painstakingly, he was gazing at the dark figure and a wet sensation ran through to his cheeks. Leaning closer he attempted to feel the mirroring of his sensation in a glass; but darkness did not betray. The warmth of his wet sensation brought wisdom to his insight that it was a shedding tears rolling down to his cheeks. Stretching out his hand, he touched the glass but could feel the same teary sensation missing on the mirroring face. Was it a selfless self ?


Turn static files into dynamic content formats.

Create a flipbook
Issuu converts static files into: digital portfolios, online yearbooks, online catalogs, digital photo albums and more. Sign up and create your flipbook.
Suicide note by Hiten Solanki - Issuu