I was listening to a song by Nirvana. Not that I listen to them always, just a particular liking for the song “where did you sleep last night…” It was a sway effect- the sound made me feel like dead, doped and disturbed…and once again, I fell in love with Kurt Cobain...
From there, I went to wikipedia, read about Cobain, his life, his love, his music, his guitar, his band, his suicide note…suicide notes…
Suicide Notes are written at that point of time, when one feels that the world needs to hear what one's saying before the final whiff of air! I have felt like writing a suicide note a lot of times. Never had the guts to "DO" the final act though. I have tried, but failed. For various reasons. For stupid tears, and unreasonable judgments passed in life.
What was bothering me, when I read it? Why did I tear off the suicide notes I had written? I had written three of them. Blaming everyone who made me feel lost, tired and depressed. I hated the world with the words I carelessly scribbled. When I put the blame on others, I quietly gulped down my mistakes. It didn’t matter to me anymore. The world meant nothing at that point. I wanted to keep it somewhere so that someone who sees my body would notice it.
The moment I knew that I have not succeeded in ending my life, I tore the papers into bits, scared that the world might put it back into pieces and know what went on in my mind. I ffeared being caught of my sins, that I joyfully put blame on the world. I feared being tortured because of it.
If at that point, my world would have scrambled like thermocol balls in a windy room, I wouldn’t have smiled today!
From there, I went to wikipedia, read about Cobain, his life, his love, his music, his guitar, his band, his suicide note…suicide notes…
Suicide Notes are written at that point of time, when one feels that the world needs to hear what one's saying before the final whiff of air! I have felt like writing a suicide note a lot of times. Never had the guts to "DO" the final act though. I have tried, but failed. For various reasons. For stupid tears, and unreasonable judgments passed in life.
What was bothering me, when I read it? Why did I tear off the suicide notes I had written? I had written three of them. Blaming everyone who made me feel lost, tired and depressed. I hated the world with the words I carelessly scribbled. When I put the blame on others, I quietly gulped down my mistakes. It didn’t matter to me anymore. The world meant nothing at that point. I wanted to keep it somewhere so that someone who sees my body would notice it.
The moment I knew that I have not succeeded in ending my life, I tore the papers into bits, scared that the world might put it back into pieces and know what went on in my mind. I ffeared being caught of my sins, that I joyfully put blame on the world. I feared being tortured because of it.
If at that point, my world would have scrambled like thermocol balls in a windy room, I wouldn’t have smiled today!
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