I stare up at the ceiling in the darkness. There is a little light coming from the flickering television beside me and quiet voices whisper to me from within the box. I don’t know what’s on; even if I could hear it I wouldn’t be paying attention. Though my eyes are open I don’t see the ceiling or the bluish light flickering across it. My eyes see my own thoughts. I see my whole past life, and my eyes are running with hot and sorrowful tears. My ears tickle with the wetness and the edges of my hair is damp from all the crying I’ve been doing. A pile of tissues sits beside me on the bed.1
I am thinking back to my first thoughts of suicide. I was fourteen years old which is not six years passed. I remember how overwhelming the depression was. I had never felt like anyone loved me. I had so few friends and a boy had never looked my way, at least not in my opinion. People at school didn’t like me even though they didn’t know me, and I had difficulty making friends. I could hear the whispers as people made fun of my hair and my clothes, though few dared to say anything directly to my face.2
It was around spring time that I first learned of cutting. I had never known that people cut their bodies because of depression before. One night as I stayed up late talking to a friend I’d met on the internet, she confessed to me that sometimes she harmed her self because of the depression. She’d even been hospitalized over it before. I asked her why she would do that and she explained that it made her feel better. I decided to research this newfound possible means of escape. What I found sounded very scientific. Whenever you cut yourself endorphins were released that eased the pain. I didn’t understand much of it, but it was enough to convince me.3
At first I tried using a knife. This produced frustrating results as the only thing we owned were dull kitchen knives that barely produced a scratch. These scratches would already have faded before the day had even ended. Again, my friend was the one that gave me the ideas, though unintentionally. She showed me a poem she had written and it involved cutting yourself with a shaving razor. That was it, I thought, that was what I needed to do. These produced better results, and so over the next few years this was my way of expression and escape.4
This cutting helped, but eventually it didn’t seem like enough. I started to wonder how hard it would be to cut my wrists and commit suicide. I was a little scared of the idea of death, and so every time I thought to do it I “chickened out” as I called it. Of course I’d read plenty of depression websites that explained to me that killing yourself wasn’t the brave thing to do, it was the cowards way out. I didn’t believe it. This was just something they told you to keep you from doing it, I was sure.5
I rolled over in my bed as these thoughts swirled through my mind. I stared at the window, which was covered in the thick white blinds so that the slowly rising sun couldn’t seep inside. Six years later I was still depressed, and not only that but I was worse. I would sometimes think back to those days when my despair first started to rise and long for them. I don’t cut my arms anymore, but that isn’t because I’ve gotten better. It’s because I don’t want my husband to be disappointed when he finds those ruby red marks painted along my flesh.6
I hear a cry in the other bedroom. I sigh, wishing that I could get more sleep, but now it is time to get up with my son. I wipe furiously at my tears, but there are so many of them that my skin begins to feel raw from too much friction from my hand. I sniff and slowly crawl out of bed. I wish I could stop crying. I hate crying in front of my son. Though he isn’t even two, he still looks at me as if he knows that I’m sad. It is the most heart breaking look that has ever come from two bright blue, innocent eyes. It makes me cry harder, which doesn’t help.7
I go to him and with as cheerful a voice as I can muster I say, “Good morning!”8
Luckily he doesn’t seem to notice my blotchy red face or the dampness on my cheeks. I have, at least, managed to get the tears under control. I pick him up and together we go to the living room where we carry out our usual routine. I change his clothes and his diaper, and then I give him breakfast. I turn on his favorite cartoons and sit down on the couch to watch them with him. 9
My eyes glaze over again as my thoughts press in on me once more. I can’t help thinking about the fact that no one cares about me. Sure, they might be a little sad if I died, but no one would truly miss me and they’d soon forget about me completely. Unbidden, the tears come again and I can do nothing but let them fall. After a moment, I realize that the house is too quiet. I lower my eyes from the television to Hadrian and realize that he is watching me. He doesn’t look sad or happy. It’s his thoughtful expression, where his blue eyes watch you intently and his little lip pouts outward, making his cheeks look chubby. I try to smile at him but it comes out awkward and wet.10
After watching me a moment he runs toward me and throws his arms around my waist. This does make me smile and I hug him tight. Then he tilts his head back and presses his lips together, his signal that he wants a kiss. I lean forward and plant a kiss on his little nose, making sure to give a clear kissing sound. Then he steps backwards and begins to twirl in a circle until he falls down, then looks at me expectantly. He knows that this will make me laugh because it always does. This time is no different.11
I suddenly realize that my tears are gone and my heart feels less heavy. The realization dawns on me that there is someone that not only needs me, but loves me deeply. And even though he isn’t even two, he’d remember his mama, and the fact that she loved to watch him twirl until he was dizzy. No matter how much my depression wants me to be convinced, I cannot deny the truth that this little boy would miss me, even if I won’t believe anyone else would.12
“I love you, Hadrian,” I told him with feeling, now wanting to cry again because of the surge of emotion. He smiles at me, unable to talk but expressing his feelings just as strongly as if he had screamed the words at me.13
This is my tale of the light that keeps me holding on and the darkness at bay. Life is still a struggle, and suicide thoughts still come to me often. But all I have to do is think of the love my son has for me and I for him, because every time I’m sad he’ll be there with a hug even if he isn’t quite sure why I need it. Isn’t that really what unconditional love is all about?14
Author notes
I wrote this to enter into a make me cry contest. This is the most I've revealed of myself ever to so many people, especially ones I don't know, so be nice.
Why this defines me: Well, there are the obvious reasons. That it is about my son would be a major reason as he is my whole world. It is about the depression I cope with and makes up a lot of my personality, so again very me. But the real reason I chose this as my defining piece is because I poured so much of myself into it. I worked hard on it and put everything I had into it; emotion, tears, creativity, trying to make it good while still being short (which is hard for me). So yeah, here it is, hehe.
I chose.... Option 2 Family love
A contest entry
- : Make me cry. by Taylor Renee.
375 points, ended November 20, 2007, 31 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Prewrites (again) by potaytee.
150 points, ended December 27, 2007, 92 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Chains unleashed! by Shiki.
1600 points, ended June 2, 2008, 57 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - This Defines You by OkapiShomapi.
600 points, ended January 16, 2008, 15 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
How is the title? How is the ending?
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
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Wow =) I love this a lot. It made me sad and happy at the same time, good job!! I'm not sure if the title fits, but it's still catchy. Keep on writing!
~Dasha~
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Wow. Really well written. Yeah, depression is really hurtful; you expressed your thoughts powerfullly, with three L's. The ending was so sweet. Great job.
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Okay...you write really well. I have to say that much. When I was reading the first paragraph, which was full of marvelous descriptions, I was confused. What the heck is happening? Is the character blind? Why am I reading this? These are a few things I asked myself. Then when I read the second paragraph I realized she was thinking. You don't want a reader to that. A reader should be able to understand everything, without being kept in TOO much mystery. If a reader cannot do that, he or she throws the book away. Just saying... It is one thing that you REALLY want to develop on.
But I like the rest of the story. The plot is written out really well, and I feel sad for the other characters, since she does not seem to really care how they might feel.
On the whole, it is a great story. You have good word choice, and I can't find any proofreading errors.
Good luck and I hope you keep on writing.
MagicMonster00Mbeginning: 2, language: 4, plot: 4, ending: 4, dialog: 2, characters: 1.
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Very real, very nice, and very well written.
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Awww! This is so cute! I've heard of this before, very real problem. What about her son? Who's gonna look after him if he dies? These are questions she should keep in mind. And I'd bet her husband would be sad, more than just a little, lol!
Great work! Flows smoothly, good word choice, can't find any proofreading errors, so...
Good Job -
Excellent
Too bad it is not in a teen or woman's magazine. I might suggest that you submit it. especially if you take a trophy since it might give more credence to the story. Editors see a lot of material and it could help yours stand out. Good luck sharing your story with millions.
Good luck keeping your life with your son!
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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THis is so deep, and emotion filled. I don't know what to say. Your just amazing.... and I'm blabbering... anyway, this left me speechless.
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It's really quite brave of you to put something like this out in the world, but it also portrays a conditional trust that people will accept you. By bringing attention to your inner emotions you are taking a step forward - and you no longer desire to keep your pain hidden.
You are a beautiful person. I can say that without knowing or meeting you, but being true to yourself and to your heart is beauty enough. The heart you poured into this is what made it so palatable - it was like I was with the character at the same time this occured.
Kudos for portraying how the son is both a lifeline and finally proof that love exists.
Keep writing!beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Aww how sweet that little boy is! I got post natal depression after having my little girl so I know what constantly crying feels like and especially when you cannot help it! Its even worse if in front of your child, but this is a heart felt little piece and it was brilliantly written. My heart goes out to you and I am glad you are coping with it, well done to you!
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Okay firstly thanks for joining in the contest And I might be more harsh/strict in contest so bear with it here goes
This story is really a touching story. You have certainly put a lot of your emotions into this. And I can feel it. That's something really well done. Sharing something painful, being truthful about ourselves that all needs courage. People says truth hurts but we all live in a world of truths. Its unavoidable It all goes back down on how we face and manage the Problems in our lives.
You have chosen to share it with us, fellow storywriters whom you might not know at all, and that takes courage and lots of if especially reflecting and thinking about those sad happenings writing them down. A job well done.=D Personally I was carried away by the mood that you've instilled into this story and its really good.
Language wise, from a story reader point of view[POV] Well I think it lacked a little of "Huge" words to make the whole story even more realistic and sad. Its not a must to include these, but I think It can be improved You have already put so much efforts into this and I can feel it, the pain which you injected into the story and able to carry it out even with simple and yet words that made an impact to a reader. This is truly a good story. but even good stories can be Improved
! Its not a must but Its just my suggestion.
You have certainly done well lady to write such a touching story especially something or experiences that is part of you. Now I understand why some people says, "Its easier to write something which you have experienced it before" Because at those precise moments, everything felt so real.
Well done Sorry to have written such a long and draggy comment But I thought I needed to cuz this is just simply a beautiful story to be shared with everyone.
And lastly, Please don't do such stuff again as cutting yourself. If your son would have understood, I would say "each cut on your hands add a scar on his heart" treasure life!
Just remember...there will always be someone who loves you and truly care for you In the world. No matter where you are, who you are. God Bless you and your family. And good luck for everything you do.
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That's really nice. That start was really sad but the end was beautiful. Thanks for entering my contest.
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I liked this story because it had such and honest and in your face feel to it. I was getting worried about what would happen in the middle of the story and I saw myself in the narratior. I'm glad that the narrator was able to pull through for her son, I also thought the story had a good overall message to it.
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Touching to the heart and mind.
Thank goodness your son still loves you. This was a story that makes you value how important life is and try to live each and every minute of it. I admired the way you told your story. The only hope is that more people will follow you in saying no to suicide. Thanks for the read!
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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I've dealt with depression before, and this really does convey the thoughts and feelings that go along with it. I dealt with it two years ago, but it has effected my life in strong ways. Thankfully, like you, I had someone that loved me unconditionally, and his "loving power" as I like to call it saved me. His name was Jesus, and I haven't suffered from depression since I gave him my all. Trusted him. It's truly remarkable how other people can effect your life.
Good job. Brava.
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Awww
This is one sad write. I like the way you put it all together so well. I enjoyed reading this. You are a very good writer, Keep it up. -
Oh my gosh, this is so sad and yet beautiful at the same time. Children are so amazing, and you convey that so wonderfully. This really almost made me cry, I could feel all the saddness that you expressed through this. Beautiful, simply beautiful.
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Emotional
This story is just so emotional. Wow! I will admit I cried reading it. Hadrian is such a cute kid, and he seems to know more than he should for being only two. Your blessed to have him.
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Oh that is so emotional. I'm sorry that you had felt that way. If I had known I would have been there for you more you, you know? The whole thing about Hadrien was so cute! Sounds likes he's growing into a handsome little guy.
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