The Chair

April 18, 2017
By Anonymous

It’s three in the afternoon and the chair I stood on was lopsided and short. One of the legs was slightly shorter than the rest, making it that when you put your weight on it you wobbled.  You never pay attention to the little things unless you are about to die, which ironically was the situation I was in. The sun shone in on me and I could feel the warmth of the rope around my neck make itself known. The rope I had picked out before was too weak, and the brown belt I had found wasn’t long enough to go around my neck. When I finally found a rope in the garage long and strong enough, I realized I was really trying to get this done before mom came home. I knew it was terrible leaving my body here for her to see but I was so ready to go into a deep sleep and never wake again. And chances are if she caught me, I would never get a chance like this again.
I stood on the chair trying to balance my weight and looked at my feet. This would be the last time I ever looked at this. I would never paint my nails again or wiggle my toes in the sand ever again. I didn’t believe in a heaven and hell. I was never religious, but now looking death right in his endless eyes, I wish I had been more religious.
Sometimes, when people want to die, others will try and convince them not to. Why would you want to die, they ask, you’re so lucky to be alive. Sometimes they might comment on how selfish I am being, most didn’t even get to make it this far in life.  Everything that is wrong with your life right now can be fixed with a simple solution, they might end with, that bully will leave you alone or you’ll get over that breakup. I never asked to be alive, I never cared for goals or striving for something. None of this ever mattered to me because I knew, at heart, I wasn’t truly living. I always knew I was destined for mediocracy, and I saw no point in living unless I made something out of myself. And I never would.
I could hear the cats roaming outside my closed door and worried about who would take care of them. My two 14 year old sisters were more concerned about trivial things than our beloved pets they wanted. They had wanted the two kittens, Max and Frank, so bad and had cried until they got them. “We can take great care of our kittens,” They whined, “We’ll feed them and love them all the time.” Once they got them, I was the one who took care of them. I loved them, I didn’t care that I needed to feed them anyway. I had no friends so really I had no other option than be friends with our cats. But it was okay. When people depended on me I felt needed, yet the only things in my life that needed me was the cats.
The only thing I really will leave behind is hungry cats. I didn’t leave a note, I felt like it was cheesy and I didn’t want to change my mind when I had already prepared for this. And besides how do you write your last letter. ‘Hey I’m sorry I really didn’t like doing this whole life thing anymore’, why leave behind something so meaningless and unimportant.
But I was ready to go. It wasn’t only because there was nothing left for me here but I was just tired. Tired of the fact people didn’t change. Tired of the fact people would always disappoint. Tired of the fact I would always disappoint. Just tired.  So here I was. Standing on this chair, almost like I was getting into bed after a long day. I looked up and was surprised to feel a tear run down my face. I had tears in my eyes. Would my mom cry at the funeral? Would my sisters? Would there even be one? I doubted it. Funerals were expensive, we weren’t very rich.I blinked a couple times taking in I would no longer be able to blink. I took in a gulp of air and held onto it taking in that it might be my last breath.
I started to feel my heart beat and closed my hand into a tight fist. I didn’t want to die really, I just wanted to sleep. But I wanted to worry, cry and get angry. I wanted to feel all the emotions that made me feel weak before. I didn’t want sleep, I wanted life. I made my way off the chair when I realized the long, strong rope was still around my neck.                            Everything happened quickly after that. You see, when people look at death, they see what they made of their life. Maybe they won some races or had an amazing pair of kids.  I didn’t see what happened in my short 16 years of life. I saw my mom. Before dad left. Before she lost her job at the school and was forced to work at Whataburger. Before my sisters became concerned with looking nice all the time and how many classes they could skip before mom noticed. I saw my mom smiling. I saw her holding up my favorite teddy bear I had lost a day earlier with a huge grin on her face saying ‘I found it I found it!’ I missed her already.
Yet now. The rope almost yanked the air out of my lungs, and dangled me in the air. I was getting the deep sleep I had wished for only minutes before.
My body was found only 10 minutes later by my two younger sisters, Darla and Janet. They were only 14 years old. Witnessing their older sister dead on the floor is something that would stick with them for the rest of their lives. My mom and sisters did cry at my funeral, and so did the rest of my aunts and uncles. They all said they never understood why an honor student would want to die so much.


Suicide is the third-leading cause of death for 15- to 24-year-olds, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), after accidents and homicide. Please be aware of loved ones and friends looking towards suicide.

The author's comments:

I hope people truly get what it means to kill yourself, and who you leave behind.

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