That is the last chapter for me. Even the smallest thing that tried to convince me to be happy, to stay in this miserable life is no longer worth it. That time, I’ve already decided to end everything.
I deleted all contact number in my phone and threw it below the bridge of the train station. I even threw my wallet full of my identification cards inside the station’s trash. That’s all of it.
No one I personally know will immediately get the news that I attempted suicide. They will only notice once I’m gone for days. Not even the news have the guts to show my deformed body uncensored in television. Hospitals won’t be able to recognize me. Witnesses might be able to identify who I am before I was crushed by the train, but it’ll be too late for my family, friends, and colleagues to hear the reality that I’m gone forever.
I’m waiting for the train to come, pondering about how I lived my life. Nothing to make me reconsider my decision. A few moments away, I felt fingertips on my shoulder – and as I turn around, a teenage boy is standing in front me.
“I believe you dropped this.” the boy said.
“I believe I threw that away.” I replied.
The boy raised his eyebrows and pulled an ID from my wallet. “Mr. Dante…” said the boy scrutinizing my photo and I.
“You’re up to no good.” he continued while putting the ID back inside the wallet.
I was thrown off with his words. Sweat came out and I felt petrified in front of him. I tried to utter some words to rebut even though I have no obligation to explain things with him.
“Sir?”
I can’t tell this boy anything. He knows who I am but that’s all his problem after I jump in front of an approaching train. That’s right, after this, it’s no longer my problem. I chose to face the platform and leave the boy.
I heard the whistle of the guard manning the platform; the train is approaching. I’m suddenly filled with thrill. My heart keeps on beating so fast and I walk towards the yellow line and thinking of jumping on the tracks.
In a moment, I came into my senses and saw that the boy grabbed me by my shoulder; and in an instant the train stopped and open its door.
I failed.
The boy latched on to my wrist and led me inside the train.
We we’re quiet, ceased from talking with each other as the train speeds towards the next station. The boy grabbed a small notebook inside his backpack, wrote his mobile number on the paper, and tore it from his notebook.
“Here’s your wallet and please keep this paper. Give me a call after an hour, I took something from your wallet just in case you fail so that I can call the authority.”
“I don’t have a phone.” I reasoned out.
“Not my problem.”
When our train arrived at the next station, the boy departed without uttering another word.
Not sure if it’s only my imagination, but I saw a trace of a smile on his face. No pity; I think he’s happy that he helped someone like me.
I can’t believe I’m still alive.
– Dante (September 2007)
Hajime (始) from the South 