The Key To My Happiness Research Essay

The Key To My Happiness Essay, Research Paper

The Key to My Happiness

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Everyone hates me for what I am. They all think I am unusual. They stare as if I were the chief attractive force

at a monster show. I hate myself for what I am non: societal, surpassing and happy. No 1 would lose me if I died.

I can non take the torture of life in this *censored*ty universe any longer. I would be better off dead!

I sit on bed in my candle-lit room, the black velvet drapes drawn shut. The fume from the combustion

incescents whirls throughout the room the in the pale flickering visible radiation. The melancholic sounds of

Nine-Inch-Nails quietly echoes in the corners. Depressed, I wonder what is incorrect with me? Why does everyone

do merriment of me? Why do I non any friends? How come no 1 cares about me?

I need an flight from the insanity of my ain head? Death, it is most people & # 8217 ; s worst fright ; nevertheless,

it is the lone thing that will emancipate me from this snake pit on Earth. In my manus I hold the key to my freedom, a razor

blade. In awe I analyze the razor: it & # 8217 ; s unfertile, machine precise metal, cutting border. It is more beautiful than

anything nature could bring forth. Keeping it with my right index finger and pollex, I place it & # 8217 ; s razor border upon my

left carpus. It glistens in the tapers & # 8217 ; fires.

I stare as the shadows of the razor dance like shades on my forearm. I apply pressure down on

the blade until the tegument depresses under the metallic border. Slowly I apply more force per unit area. My tegument offprints

beneath the razor border and the blade sinks into my flesh.

Fascinated I raise my arm to my eyes. There is no blood, despite the fact that there is a piece of metal

embedded in my carpus. I lower my arm back down and once more hold on the razor blade with my right manus. I slide

the razor & # 8217 ; s border along my arm, off from my carpus, and so take the blade from out of my arm.

The razor had left a clean three and a half inch surgical scratch, get downing a twosome of centimetres

back from the underside of my thenar. Throughout all of this I did non experience a thing. Finally, blood easy beads up

along the slit. Instaneously the cut splits open into a deep cranny. Blood flushs out from the lesion,

pouring onto my satin bed sheets.

Amazed, that I had really gone through with it, I am unable to travel. I sit in great pride ; my eyes

fixed on the blood streaming out of my arm. There is a prickling esthesis in the spread where the razor had torus

through my tegument minutes ago. That esthesis so turns into a combustion hurting. I stand up and go

faint. Every pulse pumps more and more blood out and onto the shred

vitamin E rug floor. My organic structure

grows weaker with each pulsation. Still gazing in a enchantment like province at the gapping lesion, I become frightened. I truly

did non desire to decease. It was merely a trial of my strength and will, to see if Is could make it. It was merely supposed to be

a trial! I do non desire to decease! Fearful for my life, I stagger towards the posting of Kurt Cobain taped on my sleeping room

door. Spilling blood with every measure I take, go forthing behind a trail of blood. My legs strain to keep

balance. The floor begins to rock and I must tilt all my weight against the door to stay standing.

My tegument is cold to the touch. My organic structure shakes uncontrollably. My manus milk sicknesss as I reach for the door

grip. My vision becomes blurred, doing it impossible to concentrate on the door. My fingers grow

numb. Unable to see consecutive I and non holding any feeling in my custodies, I miss several times when catching for

the door boss. Finally, my manus catches the grip. I struggle to turn it. I try drawing the door unfastened, but my

clasp is excessively weak. My manus slips off of the boss and I collapse & # 8211 ; foremost hitting my left cheek bone against the

chrome grip, and so smearing blood all the manner down the door. Liing in a pool if blood, I taste the bitter

coarseness of blood on my lips. My cheek crestless waves to the size of a baseball. Unable to acquire up or travel any of my

limbs, I scream, but nil comes out.

Amidst all of this hurting and agony, I somehow am able to experience pleasance. My whole organic structure is wholly

relaxed. It is better high than any drug I have of all time done. There is entire silence, except for the birds in the

distance singing like angels. They tell non to worry, and guarantee me everything will be all right as long follow the

visible radiation to the terminal of the tunnel. I close my eyes. All I see is darkness: no visible radiation, no tunnel, merely darkness. The

overmastering coldness numbs every portion of my organic structure. I can longer open my eyes. It must be a hapless sight:

me lying face down on what was one time an all white rug, shed blooding to decease in a dark room filled combustion

incescents, wavering tapers and a razor blade sitting on blood soaked sheets.

I lay here for what seems similar yearss, but I know has merely been proceedingss. My ma should home be shortly.

She will assist me. She has to assist me! I impotently lay on the floor waiting. Blood continues to run out out of my

organic structure, but with the same force as earlier, for my bosom has besides grow weak. Clouds of darkness signifier over my

head and world begins to steal off. I can no longer separate if one am awake or kiping, alive or dead. And

with my last breath all my ideas and memories fade off.