I have witnessed countless of summers, sunsets and sunrises. Those days when the sun stared at the world without pause through the crystal clear sky. Sweat trickled from my forehead down to my temples like beads of liquid. The heat that radiated from the streets made the atmosphere look almost like an oven. The sound of the crickets was unceasing. The smell of the fresh salty beach and the feel of the rough white sand made up a perfect summer. It was almost impossible to decline an offer to drink ice-cold water. Scorching hot seems like the perfect adjective to describe my sultry afternoon but something else made my summer special. It’s not about the heat, the sun, the beach, the sand or the crickets because one day, in that summer, I decided to commit suicide.
