- Area: Humanities
- Program: Composition
- Type of Writing: Fiction/Creative Non-Fiction
- Course Level: 1000
- Year: 2018
- Paper ID: H.E.F.N.18.104.22.1682
It’s Nice to Be Alive
She felt her body sink into the mattress and let the darkness envelop her. Her face was completely soaked in tears, she could feel the salt as it sunk into her pores. Her body was forced upward violently with each sob that tore through her. Her crying was as violent as she’d ever felt, but it matched with the rest of her demeanor. She was in violent mood and she wanted to hurt something. She wanted to hurt herself.
The pills on her nightstand called to her, each capsule singing its own siren song, begging to be devoured. Their label, full of warnings and direction, squished into a melodic drown it out. The DJ on the radio station rambled on about something she didn’t much care about. She just needed some sort of white noise to keep her mind away from what was going on in the other parts of her brain.
She knew she didn’t want to die, but the little voice in the back of her head spoke to her. It dug in, directly to her core, saying, “You know this is what everyone wants. Why do you keep trying? No one wants you here.”
She felt so much pain, both physically and mentally, and she just wanted to be rid of it. In order to stop feeling her own pain, she’d need to cause more pain to those around her. If she could only be more selfish, and put her own needs above those of her family and friends, then she’d never have to feel that pain again. It was almost as if she just hoped she would cease to exist or fall off the face of the earth and no one would notice the absence that was left in the space she once occupied. It would just be a single spot of dead air, and people would just forget what used to be there and never be able to miss her. She would be like an old friend that they had simply lost touch with, but they hadn’t been close enough to really go out of their way to get in contact. She would fade away and be nothing but a vague memory that they couldn’t quite place the origin of.
It was not only her mind that was now plagued by her desolation, her body was already scarred by the deep roots of her despair. She had created the raised lines across her arms, growing with each rake of a blade. There are the white lines from her past pain, as well as the new red lines that released the pain that she felt. Focusing on the external pain was the most comforting distraction from the immense pressure she felt inside her own head. When she opened her skin, the agony that filled her could finally seep out.
She sat up, gravity bringing the tears that had pooled on her cheeks falling down her neck, sending a chill down the entirety of her spine. She reached for the bottle, holding it in a white knuckled grip. The water in her eyes making it hard to read the miniscule words across the side of the bottle. She didn’t know how much it would take to end all of this, but she wagered that a hand full would be more than enough. When she was finally able to open the childproofed bottle, she felt a calm come over her. She emptied the bottle into her hand and felt the small capsules hitting against each other as they fell into her clammy palm, with an ominous percussion. She stared down at the small little pills that would bring an end to her small little life. She felt an explosion of everything she’d hoped and dreamed that her life could possibly ever be, then she heard nothing.
Her mind was completely blank, and she couldn’t hear anything. There was just the long, even tone that seems to emerge in order to occupy the space left by the complete and total absence of sound. The static of her empty mind soon filled every space in her brain. Slowly, somehow sounding both far away and intimately close at the same time, she heard a voice.
“Next up we have a song from an Australian band, Ball Park Music, called ‘It’s Nice To Be Alive’. Isn’t it nice to be alive on this fine, summer evening?” The overexcited radio DJ said, seemingly directly to her.
Then the song began to play. One of her favorite songs. The words went directly to the darkest part of her brain and shook it up. She’d listened to this song so many times, but it had never affected her in this way. She couldn’t believe what was happening, but she felt that this could not be coincidental. In this moment, with one simple event, that had no logic explanation, she had found solace. She felt as though the song was being sung to only her, each word hitting her in the chest with more profundity than the last. Her grip loosened on the white tablets in her hands, they slowly fell onto the bed, and some even hit the floor with a stern silence.
Her body was once again wracked with sobs, only these were more intense and uncontrollable. This time it was not from misery or suffering, it was from the most pure, unbridled sense of tranquility that completely overwhelmed her body. She wondered if there was someone, somewhere, in some great beyond, who was looking out for her. She’d never believed in the idea, but she liked the feeling of peace it brought her. She felt a sense of warmth that engulfed her whole body like a hug from her guardian angel.
There was a new voices in her head, just as the song ended. It simply whispered, “You’re going to be okay,” then she fell into the most serene, undisturbed sleep of her entire life.