A LIFE TIME

Friends with the Monsters

"Am friends with the monsters that's under my bed, get along with the voices inside my head..." The music blasted through my earphones as I nodded to the song. I stared at the happy faces of those people who seemed as if they were living in a fairy tale with their Knight and shining armor. Maybe I was a little jealous but who wouldn't be, growing up I learned that monsters were always there, lurking in the darkness ready to pounce on just a hint of vulnerability. Or maybe I was just drowning in a sea of sadness and the only way I could see the light was to rip away the happiness from others.
  I slowly stood up from the old wooden park bench as it creaked in protest. I had been sitting there for almost two hours contemplating if I should or shouldn't. For days I weighed the pros and cons of my decision and maybe just I could free myself of the problems that constantly plagued my thoughts.
A long sigh escaped from my lips as I saw my house coming into view. The old creaky thing that was once full of life was now just a sad reminder of the things I had lost. It stood mockingly as the brown windows creaked with each passing wind,the yellow stripping paint seemed more obvious than ever.
A tear ran down my cheek for the thought that I was alone in this world smacked me in the face even harder. I still couldn't come to believe that my parents were just a fragment of my imagination, they no longer existed in this place we call Earth for some reckless driver had ripped away their lives.
I barely noticed when my neighbor's son Josh came out to say hi. For years we had lived right next door but hardly spoke to each other.
"Hey Caroline"
"Hey Josh," I replied
"How are you? "
Everyday someone would ask that simple question that was very difficult to answer. And every day I would reply with the same thing.
"I'm fine."
"Someday it will get better you know."
Josh had lost his mother when he was fifteen and it had wrecked him. For weeks you could hear the constant arguing between him and his farther until he eventually learned how to cope.
"Hopefully it will Josh." I murmured my response successfully ending the conversation. It was better that way, the less time I spent talking about it the better it would become. But for now it was just too hard to think about and that killed me.
I dragged my lazy feet up the porch lightly pushing open the front door that was left unlocked. What's the point of anything these days I thought. It's not like I have much to live for. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as the butter knife my mom used to use sat mockingly on the kitchen counter. 
I remembered the times she used to wave that knife at me when she saw me drinking from the box of milk. I would give her a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek then run back to my room.
"Well mom I'll see you soon wait for me okay."
A soft smile escaped from lips as I gently took up the butter knife placing it on my wrist. The knife lingered there for a minute as another memory of my mom surfaced.
  Why is it that when people commit suicide they cut their wrist or take pills, can't they be more dramatic like driving the knife through their heart or something? My mom gave me a long and hefty speech that day about how I should be more understanding and that there are many circumstances that can cause a person to break.
I laughed at the irony of the situation as I looked at how pathetic my death would be. It may have been wrong of me to dishonor the core values of my mother's  memory but broken records could no longer play. And neither could I.