Live

By Gautam Raman

The evening sun washes over me as I take in the view from the cliff face. The sky, such a brilliant orange hue with not a cloud in sight. Ahead, a vast ocean of green forestry as far as the eye can see, the tree canopies making weird and wonderful shadows that dance in the winter twilight. No one will find me here. Below, a sheer drop and solid bedrock awaits. High enough to do the trick. I approach the edge of the cliff, my mind clear of all but a solitary thought: “I want to die here.” A beautiful grave for an ugly soul. 

Ah what an ugly life I have lived dear reader! A life of deception, hiding behind masks to conceal my true self.  Ugly body, ugly mind, ugly spirit. No other word is quite as apt. “Big boys don’t cry”, mom used to say. So, I didn’t. I covered it up. Whenever I fell, when other kids said mean things, I didn’t cry. When my boss stole my life’s work and took all the credit, I didn’t cry. He accused me of plagiarism and got me fired, but I took it on the chin. My career and my income dead, I turned to my ‘friends’ for help, and they all turned the other way. Understandable, as all they’ve ever done is stab me with their problems. I knew only too well the pain that comes with listening to other people and their issues. Who’d do the same for pathetic old me? “Big boys don’t cry” became a facade I hid behind, as if crying would somehow damage me irreparably.

Once, a high school friend said to me, “You’re such a great listener! So approachable, no drama, I can talk to you about anything!” Truth is, I had no other way of making friends. I shut up, didn’t create a fuss, and put on the mask of “a good listener.” I let people stab me with their problems, each new one carving a deep wound into my being.

 I bore their problems with them, becoming an outlet and a shield. I was terrified of asking them to do the same, lest the mask drop, and I lose the only value I had as a friend and fellow human being.

Only once have I shown my true self to someone. It was to the one I loved, of course. Oh, love is, what a wonderous thing! All the burdens of the world are meaningless before it! For her, I would bear all the pain in the world! If she was with me, it was all worth it. In my one moment of weakness, I broke down and showed her what lay underneath my masks. Surely, she’d accept my true self. It was love, after all!

 “You’re pathetic, you know.”

That’s the last thing she ever told me. I never saw her again. She was right. What was I thinking? A being so disgusting, so despicable as me didn’t deserve something as pure as love! I only had a delusion of it. The masks were on again, firmly, stronger than ever. It hurt so damn much. I learned quickly that physical pain didn’t compare.

 It instead became an addiction, a need, the only way for me to remember that I was alive. My whole existence became nothing but pain.

I became nothing, did nothing, and in the end, achieved nothing. My parents, bless them, tried their best to hide their disappointment. It’s ok guys. Soon, the source of your worries will disappear. I just hope you don’t grieve for me. I don’t deserve it. I caused you enough pain in life, I don’t want to cause you more in death.

I breathe deeply and let the clean mountain air in. A gentle breeze is blowing, and it helps cool down the hurt from the scars. A temporary relief. No matter, a more permanent solution is right in front of me. I walk, one step at a time, the cliff edge getting closer. One foot off the ledge now. I can already imagine the bliss! No more masks, no more judgement, no one to stab me, no need for love, no more validation, just nothing. One more step and everything is over. A beautiful grave for an ugly being. I stare down at the sheer drop. Do it you coward! Do it, do it, do it! I feel a surge of adrenaline, and, showing the courage that I never showed in life, I take the plunge.

 I feel the wind cutting through my body as I plummet towards the bedrock. Ah the thrill, the rush, the excitement of falling! If I’d known this feeling before, I’d have taken up skydiving! Yeah, who knows, I might have met some people there. Some people that I could stab. Maybe someone as pathetic as me. We’d have bonded over shared interests, and shared hurt. And hey, maybe we could’ve lived this life together, showing each other the scars, licking each other’s wounds. As I approach the bedrock, I realise that there is only one thought echoing in my head, over and over:

“I wanted to live, damn it.

”“I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LIVE I WANT TO LI-THUD.

By Gautam Raman