There are a million ways to kill himself, but Zelo couldn’t find the right one. He had made a list of it in his head but at the end of the day, he realizes that he’s just a coward. Every reason why that way wasn’t the ideal way seems to be more out of cowardice than out of true consideration.

            He could always get hit by a car, jump in front of a train, but he’s read too many articles about train drivers who were scarred for life. Could he really do that to a human being? Even though he would surely be dead, he didn’t want to put another person’s psyche in danger. His was already messed up enough.

            Zelo toyed with blowing his brains out but that required a lot of courage he didn’t have. It also meant he had to find the gun, something that was difficult to come by. So that was out. He wanted to try slitting his wrists but again that requires a lot of bravery. They say that suicide was for the weak, but to actually pull through took a lot of courage.

            Drowning was out because he was scared of water. Just thinking about it made him want to scream. He at least wanted to die either instantly or somewhat comfortably. Hanging was simply unattractive and it would be scary for someone to walk in and find someone blue to the face, bloated dangling in midair. He at least could be considerate for others if he was planning on offing himself.

            Zelo just wanted something that was quick, fast and guaranteed. Pills were easy, but it was also too risky. If someone walked in on him or if someone found him before the time was up and they pumped his stomach? Then he’d be under their watchful eye forever as they guessed whether he was ready to kill himself or not.

            He wasn’t always a depressed person. But as he got older, and he began to feel things more acutely, he couldn’t take it anymore. Everything was too much, too much. The world was forever blaming him, and he blamed himself as well.

            He was known to be the one with the bright smile, but that’s because if he stopped smiling, he would never remember how. They say smiling would release endorphins, but his brain must not have the hormone because he has never felt happy for a long time. All laughter was fleeting. He would go out, hang out with his friends but the moment he was home, the darkness would settle in.

            Zelo tried to talk it out. People would say that they understood but could they really? Could they really read the despair that was consuming him? He had the brightest laugh and the quickest smile but that was only a cover up. The real him could barely move his lips. It was too exhausting.

            Faking was tiring. When he just wanted to be alone, lock himself up in a room and cry, he couldn’t. Human obligation called and that was when he feels like he needs to tread carefully. His entire life was walking on eggshells. Anything could trigger an emotional meltdown but he had to make sure nothing did.

            He often thought about poison but the idea of it made him queasy. What if he spazzed too much, coughed up too much blood? He wanted to die cleanly, not messy. But death is always messy.

            What really matters to him is what people would think, what they would feel after he’s gone. Would they miss him? Or would they brush themselves of him, roll their eyes, call him a coward, and be happy they were rid of him? Often, he believes the latter but at times, when he’s with people who can make him content for those few limited hours, he thinks that maybe they’ll miss him.

            People he talked to always try to reassure him. He knows it’s an attitude, a problem with his self-esteem and his image of himself. He knows that maybe people don’t really hate him but knowing and believing were two different things. And Zelo didn’t believe.

            He composed suicidal letters in his head but decided those were too dramatic. He didn’t exactly know what to write, and even if he tried to explain that it wasn’t anything that tipped him over, he didn’t think people would understand him. He did, however, want certain things to be done after his death. He’d like to ask his friends to take care of his possessions, and to maybe console his parents, but that was it.

            Life was too tiring sometimes and he always felt lonely even when he was with people. If for a few hours, he could feel surrounded by people he cared, immediately, he would feel empty. The world is once more menacing and none of the happiness would be there.

            Zelo was good at giving advice but he was never good at listening to himself. He could spew all sorts of reasoning and be a hypocrite. He hated hearing people who were contemplating death. He wanted people to be happy, to love themselves. But he doesn’t realize that what’s hard for him is hard for others.

            He sighed and pulled on his jacket. It was time for another day out with his friends. Maybe one of them would succeed in making him feel wanted. But at least they were another few hours of distraction.

this is for vannythatsme

this is sort of personal, so it's a little all over the place :/ i'm sorry if this wasn't the type of angst you were looking for