Lethal Ways Not To Kill Yourself

Tragedy 1: Kal

This is not a good story.

I mean, there is nothing to tell, same old cliché cry of an angsty teenage boy wanting to end his life.

The quintessential walk of shame through the corridor of high school, describing excruciating details about the Regina George of our highschool's blue coloured orbs deeper than the sea that can drown you and colder than the ice that can freeze you.

The kids personified as monsters but can still melt your candy heart were waiting for the bus or their parents to pick them up. I hate the locality, the only thing that pulled my sanity down like gravity was the pre-primary school nearby.

I hated kids since Jennifer Lopez led to the inception of Google Images or even before that. What's so adorable and heartwarming about idiotic lumps of flesh with peas for brains who can poop and throw up for a job?

They don't judge.

Rayleigh was one of them.

The sight of the children whose smile shone brighter than the sun filtering through the canopy of leaves broke my heart into two. One-half beat for the kids who hugged their parents even when their hands couldn't wrap around them. The warmth of their hugs were the fireplace on a winter evening and their goofy giggles were the crackling of roasting marshmallows singing urban legends during campfire.

The other half beat for Rayleigh.
Rayleigh would meet me after her class was dismissed and I was on my way back home. Rayleigh would engulf me in her hugs and melt all my silent tears in her whispers.
Rayleigh would tell me that she wants to live with me for eternity(even if she pronounced eternity as 'elertity').

Alas, you'd expect me to tell you about Rayleigh and cry rivers and brew storms in a teacup about her.

Nah, I am not that sort of chap.
I am a chap who wants to uninstall his life. For good.

Don't get me wrong and definitely don't bombard my inbox with suicide helplines. I have tried all the mental health services that you broke wet socks personified can only imagine, or not even that.

I don't know how BlahTherapy became a sexting platform and 7CupsOfTea counsellors judge me because I don't like BTS.

Dude, it won't make a difference if you force the whole love yourself album down my throat and make me feel bad about not listening to them. That's what happens when you skip school and go to K-cons and stream M/Vs. Your oppas won't compensate for your lost brain cells.

Sorry, I got emotional. Stan Day6, by the way.

Anyway, the walk I made was out of school, to the nearest cafeteria. It was five blocks down the lane, I could definitely use the little life that was left in me to tread the walk of shame. I always wondered what all places were the ones that I have already visited for the last time. Right now, it didn't matter anymore, not more than a cup of coffee. Your boy has got priorities to meet and a good cup of coffee gets you through anywhere, even death.

I entered the coffee shop and the smell of sweat and coffee beans hit my nose. The last scents I'll remember before I die. What a lovely and poetic combination, too bad I won't stay around to pen it. You guys should do it, it's okay if you don't give me credits.

The coffee shop, Juniors, was more packed than usual. It was my first time entering the coffee house during peak socialising time, might as well be the last.

I hunted for a quiet retreat close to the ordering counter. In the time being, Amari waved his hand at me. I would have been taken aback if today was a normal day, but as it wasn't, I waved back.

Kamryn, Zion and Lyric didn't even acknowledge my existence and I heaved a sigh of relief at that. I didn't want their faces of demonic omens to jinx my last day of existence. They were already taking the pity credit of dissociating life out of my soul, they better just not prevent any shots of my death.