It is the lonely road he keeps walking on; the rough surface of his palm on his face as he dries himself from all the sweats and tears that keeps rolling from his eyes and the everywhere of his face. He promised to himself – he wants to keep living, to keep breathing and to keep seeing the sun. If only it could be true, if only he could live the way he wanted to. He ignores the voices that keep on calling his name, telling him to stop walking, to stop taking another step closer to his death – but guess what? He loves the idea of dying. The sole idea of killing his soul from the disgusting reality he is trying to survive; he truly loves the view of him, no longer breathing and die. As of now – as he keeps talking and battling with the angelic side of him which supposed to be gone decade ago; on whether to keep living and breathing the arrogant air of humanity or walk his way out to the hell for the eternity.

            He is taking the last step closer to his own death as he looks to his right – a man in a full set of uniform, mouthing him to walk away from the rail and asks him to calm down and says everything going to be alright. ‘No, everything is not going to be alright. He knew it was just a lie.’ And as he looks to his left - a group of so-called human being, recording the last second of his moments on earth as they keep making their typical ugly expression on face. The fake pitiful mask which they plastered on their face, it is sickening to see those liars. He hears voices, telling him to stop doing from whatever he is trying to do. But it is too late. It is just too late to walk away from the mess he had created.

So he jumps.                                     

He jumps away from the thoughts of living a happy life and from the memories of being happy.

He feels happy.

He thought; he could feel happy if he dies.

But sadly, he is not.

-

 

            When you thought dying is the possible solution to the satanic hell that keep ruining your life; you are wrong. You are totally wrong. If dying means totally die and gone from the world – it is cool, then. But the level of dying he is experiencing right now, is the another version of punishment which will never hurt him physically. He, however, is mentally suffering from the constant pressure of the doctors and the nurses, of probably his family and the investigators – to keep his heart alive and to keep fighting. This unexpected version of him dying is just too different from whatever plan he made previously; of jumping from the bridge and die – it is supposed to be that way. He is currently, laying on the government sponsored mattress, with wires and tubes lingering all over his body. Stiches and bandages, wounds and scars – dancing from one spot to another on his wrinkles skin which used to be so soft and smooth. He is denying his rights to keep living but the other version of him wants him to keep living so the ideology of happiness he once believed will return to the empty soul he lives in.

Then, shall he returns and finds his own definition of happiness?

 

-

 

“Do you think it’s real?” His fingers swiftly dancing throughout his rusty hair as he combs it away from his eyes. ‘It stings me to live with this kind of style’

”What do you think?” The latter shuts his eyes tight, a hand in pocket and his back leans against the rough wooden wall as he lets his wild imagination running here and there inside of his head; figuring an impossible answer to solve the not even a question coming from his dearest friend.

“I think, squid does own a heart – I mean, come on! If he does not own one, then how he could feel terrify and shoot his so called enemy with the inks, right?” The rusty one already standing, hands on hip, waiting for the latter to confirm his theory and to prove that he is right and not wrong.

“I am a no expert when it comes to your interest with things other than human being, Taehyung – I mean, I Googled it once for you, the article stated that, squid, does, own a heart. So that is probably why he could sense the danger ahead? I guess –

“Do you think that they also, own a set of emotions? Like us?” The latter sigh his thought away at the mention of emotions. Well, do they own such feelings? It makes him to actually think about it but he washes the thought away as quick as lightning. If squid too, does feel things and emotions; then will they, in such a desperate moment, will think about suicide just like him?

 

-

 

            If he asks you to see and to understand the life he’s living in, you had probably will tell him to turn his back away from all the unnecessary external pressures and the consistent internal debate with his ‘so-called’ perfect surrounding. Who cares if one owns mountain lots of money? Who cares if a person lives in a mansion as huge as the ing Disney’s castle? Well, who cares anyway if someone is still breathing and second after he stops inhaling? Who cares, right? Frankly speaking, the thoughts inside his head, ‘inside Sehun’s ing head’ kepps telling him to do something outrageous, things which are different from others.

Suicide is overrated.

It is slowly becoming a norm in the life of ‘desperator’ and those who seek for pleasure of no longer being able to live on this mother ing oval planet. Or the principle of breathing is only applicable for people with money, people with fame and position with promises of heaven. Sehun thinks; life is funny. Life is funnier when you can be a savior but your damn storyline rendered you to be average. Thus, leaves you with no choice but to accept your fate because money is not your label and status makes you a loser.

“Sehun- What is the purpose of life if living means suffering from the atrocious thoughts of others?” He seals his lips tight, neurons trying to come up with an answer but his heart told him to stop; answering means admitting your pain and you will end up to be part of the downgraded human-a-noyyed’.

“What do you think?” The guy with pretty features and a wide smile on face let out a quick seconds of laughter.

“I’m asking you for an answer not to be bombarded with another counter-attack of yours, Oh Sehun.”

“Why do you think so?” The brunette-purplish hair just smiled.

“I still think the purpose is to keep living. Suffering is just part of the process, of maturing your thoughts and lust – because that’s living. Suffering could lead you to greater level of happiness; it could. Suffering could change you for better; it might. But what if I’m tired of feeling tired and there is no definite to my ‘suffering’ episodes? What should I do?”

-

One…

“Sehun, please come to the front and bid your last farewell to our beloved Taehyung.”

 

Two…

“He’s too young to go to heaven. Stay strong Mrs. Kim, God knows better.”

 

Three…

“Heaven? You do realized suicider will go straight to hell and not heaven, right?”

 

Four…

“Don’t say things like that, this is a funeral. You’re women with family, please respect the Kim’s.”

 

Five…

“Why would us? His son committed suicide for no absolute reason. That Sehun kid should stay away and make a new friend. I know Kim’s son is a useless brat.”

 

Sehun walks away.

Suicide is overrated.

But it is not the worst case ever. Society tard minds are.

-