Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

A Suicide Note

By , NY, NY

I can still feel the breath of the cold wind and his rushed drunken breaths against my bare skin. The shrieks, the pleads, the cries of my own voice haunts every single of my nights. His face, god, that unknown stranger face voluminous with anger and fury…his eyes filled with mad fury and drunken rage…his rough hands: all have become the monsters of my existence. His brutal touches on my skin, his sloppy mouth grazing my body, his eyes hungrily gaping every inch of me: the memory of that ruthless night is what’s slowly killing me, like poison. My soul is harmed, polluted. More than my body, my soul is scarred. Every time I recollect the way he looked at my naked body, contaminating my soul, making me hate my own skin with every passing moment, wanting me to rip my heart out…a part of me dies, hides away from the universe never to return again. My body feels like a ugly and dirty monument which no one would want to touch ever again, my skin smells of his evil intentions, my thoughts are overshadowed with embarrassment, my heart is clogged with hatred for myself.
    

I don’t know why he chose me. Or why the universe chose to punish me so brutally. Where was my fault in all of this? Was it my fault that I was brave enough to step out of the safe warmth of my house? Was it my fault that a madman with the eyes of a demon and a heart of stone snatched my innocence? Was it my fault that he left me on the street, hurt and bleeding, for all to see? Was it my fault that despite all of this, my stupid heart is still beating, is alive? “Maybe, it is. You ruined your life as well as ours”, is the response my father gave me. “You are dishonourable and wicked”, the society screamed at me. Maybe…maybe it WAS my fault. Had I not been bold enough, or as my mother put it, idiotic enough to leave my house at 7:00 in the evening (when the streets are still lively and bright) none of this would have happened. It was all my fault, none of the man who touched me against my will. After all, I am a GIRL.  I am just a weak, fragile element of the universe. Just a stone to toss for men. Just someone who loses all worth once my virginity is lost, against my will. No, I’m not meant to be supported through this mess my life is becoming, I’m meant to be blamed for it. I am  a powerless creature under the observance of male species. My words mean nothing against their judgment. I am meant to be abused. My body and soul is a playground for them.
      

Yes, maybe it was my fault. My fault for thinking otherwise. For thinking that I was strong enough to stand on my feet, for believing that men and women are equal, for trusting the society when it promised it changed. It was my fault for seeking justice from this remorseless community I was born into.
  

I learn the truth now, when I’m hurt and anguished by someone who I never knew, by a man who the society blames nothing at. No one around me reckons him as a monster, a hellhound that ruined the youth of a young girl. No, he was just an intoxicated man and I was just a shameless girl who had no sense.  They don’t look at him as a madman; instead they look at me as a hazardous and ‘impure’ object. A defect item. I finally learn that I have no control or right over my own body. I have no rights to decide who touches my skin. I have no rights to demand justice as I was born a girl. I have no rights to live anymore with pride and self-worth  because a man touched me against my will. I will not be sympathized with or supported in this situation, instead I will be blamed and called dirty names.
     

I write this, only to tell you that whenever someone declares that women are equal to men ,or that they enjoy all privileges that men do, or that they are safe and happy in today’s “changed” and “modern” world: remind them of my story. Remind them of my injustice. Remind them of the battles I lost. Remind them how my own family disowned me. Remind them how no one would talk to me anymore. Remind them how I wasn’t spared of dirty stares wherever I went. Remind them how no one ever looked at me as a human. Remind them that there are 100’s like me who lost their future and place in society to the hands of merciless men. And most importantly, remind them how they shunned my respect and dignity, just because a man decided to steal it all from me. Remind them how none of them came to help.
         

Remind them how he still roams about freely on busy streets, among you all readers, while I write a suicide note…seeking justice on these pages and pondering at ways to end this worthless existence.
                                               

 -A girl who no one heard to, a girl who lost her everything to someone she knew nothing about.




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback