[ WP ] The inner monologue of a suicidal man who has just been stabbed by a criminal and is slowly bleeding to death .

I can attest that self-destruction is an unconscious symptom of a suicidal man. None of us want anything more than to have it all end. I can remember my first few attempts, I was so young. Seventh grade had to be the first time, it was winter,'round Christmas. Lights strung throughout the neighborhood, because of an unspoken rivalry that everybody had with each other for best decorations. I can remember how enticing that thought was at first. What if I were to end it, take it all, crumple it up and throw it away. Everyone at the time called it `` Seasonal Depression'', what an interesting way to get drugs for children, but who am I to say it was n't real? All I knew was that I had felt this way for years and it seemed I had just found the gumption to move forward with my efforts. My neighbor across the street east of my house was my Uncle. Uncle Doug, he was a guy who liked cowboys a little too much, always the guy that gave you too much shit and did n't exactly know when to stop. A rumor circulating around our family, which everyone seemed to forget for years, was that he had one love when he was young. She was involved in a car accident and died, he has n't loved since they said. In this way I found myself related, more than by blood, to my Uncle. So I only found it right to attempt to hang myself from his Christmas lights, so I hiked myself up onto his roof by way of his enormous tree in the back yard. I sat in the tree for a moment before getting onto the roof to reminisce on old days when my cousins would hang out in his tree during Christmas gatherings. I did n't want that anymore, I never wanted it really. I get onto the roof and am detaching some of the string lights from it. I finally had enough detached, now to apply the only useful thing I learned in Boyscouts, how to tie a noose. While lowering it over my head, I hear a door slam. It startled me, yes, I'm jumpy. I slid down the side of the roof hoping the lights would hold over my head, but the nails used to hold the lights in place were painters nails and could n't hold a picture frame. I landed in a bunch of snow only to be disappointed with the results. 
 
 Moving forward a couple of years, my Uncle was still struggling. Though my strife does n't seem to be a kind of grieving, I felt the end result was the same when about 9 years later he was found dead in his house from a heart attack. He was diabetic and never had much to live for once both his love and dog were gone. He had stopped taking care of himself after all went to hell for him. He even tried moving to North Dakota to escape it all, but fell off of a latter there and was n't permitted to do his job thereafter. After the revocation of his license he moved back and just two years later he was gone. I was supposed to have dinner with him to try and give him some company that night, but I was a highschooler at the time, I was concerned with my friends, not my Uncle. I deeply regretted it when he was found the next day, it has stuck with me since then. It's Christmas time again, the same time of year which was my first attempt long ago. Graduating from my teenage years was a lesser achievement I really did n't want. I made it to 20, how much more can I bare? There was n't anything here for me. I felt exhausted, empty even. I'll sleep on the thought, see what comes out in the morning... 
 
 Waking up has always been a hard thing for me, so I decided to stay in bed for as long as possible. I did n't know how significant this would be to me, staying in bed. I finally got up at 3, got dressed and shoved off from home to anywhere but there. I needed to be out, because my idle head seems to get the best. Getting downtown was a simple task, I lived a mile away, so I laced my boots and headed that way. The only stores there was some old record store named Radio Kaos, the owner was an asshole and everyone thought so. Kids threw eggs at the windows a few nights ago and they froze, he's not the kind of guy who would clean it up. I walked past it heading down my normal alley route. I used to imagine they were the the catacombs in France, it was nice for a while. But at this point something felt strange about the whole day. 
 
 I open my eyes and see my body in front of me, I'm slumped over holding my side. Blood. There's a lot of blood, my blood. Is this it? Was that the `` flashback'' we all heard about. Well, either way, I'm happy I'm here. Goodbye.
