I just can’t take it any more, though I was alone in my room, alone in the house, the words were barely a thought, certainly not enough to be uttered into the silence of the room. Plopping down on my bed, I took up my Letters to God notebook and began writing:
It hurts and hurts and hurts. I hurt. No one even knows how badly I hurt. That guy at work told me I should just get over it. But it’s only been a week? How can I get over learning my parents are dead in a week?
Even my “best” friends don’t really know how I hurt. Sinead offers to “do a reading.” I don’t believe in that crap! She knows I’m a Christian. I’ve told her I don’t believe in “messages” from the spirits. I wish she’d just stop that new age stuff. Those spirits might be evil. Certainly, if You don’t send them, why would I seek them out? Why wouldn’t I just come to You?
I shuddered at the thought of seeking out the spirits.
I’m sorry, but can’t do this any longer. It hurts too much. No one has ever loved me except my parents. But they’re dead and I’m alone. The best I get is people who have strong, positive feelings for me, people who don’t know me. Whenever I try to tell them who I am, they’re offended or think I’m weird.
Why won’t You just let me die? I could use that black silk. I could make a noose and go far away from New York, leave all my ID behind so no one would know me, and then hang myself in a park. Everyone here would think I had disappeared; they wouldn’t know I was dead; I don’t want to hurt them. I just want… You know what I want but I can’t have that.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
I reached for the telephone. “Hello?” I failed to muffle my snuffly inhale. At least no one can see my tears, I angrily mused to God.
“It’s Sinead,” a perky voice sounded in my ear. “Are you alright?” concern replaced her usual perkiness as I snuffled again.
“I’m tired,” I sighed out. “I’m just so tired. It’s too much.”
“I’d be happy to do a reading,” she pleaded.
“I was just thinking…” I began.
My tears splashed on the blue handset. I inhaled another snuffly breath. “I have a piece of black silk. I could make a noose and go away and hang myself some place where no one knows me. The fabric is soft and if I’m careful, my neck would break and then the pain would…”
Her sudden laughter startled me. “Only you would think of a designer noose!” She laughed again, “Only you could imagine such a thing.”
I sniffed, “I guess so.” My forehead crinkled as the words “designer noose” splashed across the screen of my mind. Suddenly, laughter spilled from my throat. “You’re right! It would be a designer noose.” A giggle frothed out. “I didn’t think of that. Gosh, I’m silly.” A small ray of sunshine brightened my heart.
“You’re just in pain,” she told me.
“I’m glad you called.” Tears started in my eyes again, “You don’t know how badly I needed a laugh.”