(Prompt from The Daily Post! :D)

The pain. It’s physical. It feels like someone is stabbing me in the stomach.

The emotional pain and damage, something done so long ago, is something I could handle, but with this physical pain?

I try to forget it. I try to go to sleep. I try to forget the nausea and stabbing and emotions.

Can’t I live without emotion? Can’t I forget what happened? Forget the pain? Forget the heartache? Forget the tears and sadness? Forget depression?


The word hits me hard and cold, and another stab to my stomach makes me feel scared. I look at the time: 1:15 AM.

My mind is groggy. I can barely think as I hold a container. I look at it, curious of its contents and curious of what I’m doing. Some pink benadryl tablets and…

A death pill.

I don’t know how I know. I just do. It’s the huge silver pill that can kill you once you eat it.

I don’t remember when, but I’ve been crying. I’ve been in pain for a while now. I unscrew the container.

I try to reach the death pill, but a thought hits me and penetrates my groggy mind.

If I die… If I commit suicide like this, would I be thought of as a loser? A pathetic excuse of a human? Who tries to kill themself so easily with a pill?

My mind, still groggy, still out of my full control, acting only on impulse, stops my hand from moving and redirects it to a handful of benadryl pills.

If I die, let it be done with several pills for an overdose. Not the single death pill. Not the quick pill. No, not the easy way out. I don’t want to be remembered as someone who swallowed the death pill to commit suicide the easy way – cheating myself to death quicker, faster, easier.

I throw the pills into my mouth and press down on them with my palate, preventing myself from swallowing.

Not yet.


My mind begins to clear up.

What if I want to think about it? What if this is a mistake?

How many times has a sad moment passed away in an instant with a happy one to replace it? How many times has death appeared in my life but acceptance come too? How many times has love held out its hand to me, even when I had enough?

How many times have I been depressed? Tears flow down.

But not with sadness.

How many times has happiness outweighed depression? The good outweigh the bad? The fun outweigh the boredom? The tears of joy outweigh the tears of sadness?

Countless times. Many times. Infinite times.

I spit out the pills.

Let me not be remembered as someone who died with depression but someone who lived with happiness.

Life passes by me quickly, so quick that it’s hard to see the sad parts. But all the happy parts make me laugh, smile, grin, chuckle, and cry all at the same time. My cousin gets married. I get a job. My parents are proud. I attend my sister’s marriage. I finally fall in love.

The happy memories soon overtake the sad because sad moments always come to pass.

I wake up to my grandfather’s voice calling my name and knocking on the door to get ready for church.

The pain… The physical, the emotional. The stabbing, the hurting. The sadness, the depression.

It’s gone.


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