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Bình An
My sister An killed herself. She couldn’t overcome her own shadow, so she ended her life.
Coming to the funeral, people keeps shooting me pity looks. But I’m not sad. I’m furious.
I’m furious as I can see what lies beneath those looks. Those are nothing near the eye of sympathy. They are eyes of relief and mocking. Pure mocking. They are relieved as the Death did not take their families, their friends, their relatives, their acquaintances, and especially not themselves. Mocking? They are mocking the lady that is now lying there in her coffin, my beloved sister. They smirk with their eyes and say in whispers, “Oh, what a stupid girl to end her life,” “Phep! Such a pathetic to know nothing more than committing suicide,” and what triggers me most, “Heh, she is only choosing an easy way out.”
‘Pathetic’, ha! ‘Easy way out’, they said. The only pathetic ones seeking for an easy way out of life are them. What kind of miserable life they are leading that they have to seek soothing in a desperate choice of another human being? What kind of creature they are to find humor upon the death of another? Strange enough, my parents both believe in them while I’m only a strand away to jump up and tear them apart. Maybe because only I knew how it went. Not only did I know but have I been there with her, step by step, yet could not do a single thing to stop it. Not any attempt succeeded.
When did it all begin? Was it when I caught her light her tips of fingers and smile? Of course I stopped her and got rid of all the lighters and matches in our house. But no, must be before that.
Was it when she shared about cutting herself? She said, “You have no idea. When the blade of the cutter licked my skin, suddenly all pains vanished magically. Then I saw light, I saw heaven, I saw an escape. But they all flashed by in a zap, with no way to hold it back. Better than sex, they would say, and I can’t agree more.” It’s true, I had no idea about her depression until then. Now I still have no idea why she needs an escape? Escape from what? Well, again, I found a way to make every razor blade out of her reach. But then, it must be even before that.
Was it when I found her slitting her own arm with a ruler as if the ruler is a blunt knife? Was it when I found her, the one with nyctophobia, sitting in a dark corner, then stared finding home in the dark? Was it when I found her in the middle of the night vomiting until she was tired and couldn't do anything but leaning to the toilet and cry? Was it way back when her activity pattern slowly change?
The path keeps stretching far back and every step on it is a torture of hopelessness. I suddenly realized how neglecting I was, and that makes how cruel I was turning away from her and simply threw a “Just be positive” right into her face. Be positive! How ironic it is now that I cannot find any energy let only a strand to be positive. How ironic it is now that I can’t just be positive. How ironic it is now that I come to understand that it is not something one can control. Was she experiencing the same thing all along? Was she engulfed by the darkness inside to the extent which the darkness outside can no longer affect her? Was she not wittingly, willingly, intentionally suffering in silence but everyone turned a deaf ear to her? I chose to shut her cry for help out. I chose to turn a blind eye to her stretching hand. And that... is the thing chilling my spine... Who am I kidding? I feel nothing.
She once said: “We’re not ‘rotten to the core’. We’re rotten from the core. When your inside is hurt, it is damaged, bit by bit, till we’re covered in wounds and injuries. Eventually the rotten part spreaded all over the place. That’s when we’re withered, wilted, dead.”
I’m not sad, really. The pain numbs all my sense and feeling. Is it? Or is it An’s leaving that do it? Or is it something else? I have no idea. One thing, the only thing, I do know is An didn’t kill only herself. She also almost killed me, Bình. I’m, too, near death as my other half, my twin sister is gone. Yet I can’t die, I have to survive even barely. But let’s face it. I’m a coward. Too scared of all the things people could say at my funeral while I could be floating around and hear it all. Or else, I would have gone with her already.
How would there be peace without safe and sound?
_____________
Note: "Bình an" is a compound noun in Vietnamese, which its two words can also be used separately. "Bình" means safe in the manner of stable and unchanged. "An" means safe, peace, unharm. Together they could be futher interpreted as inner-peace. Both independant words and the compound form are popular Vietnamese name.
© Josephine Teale
#depression #SuicidePrevention #SuicidePreventionMonth #mentalhealth #BeSupportive #family #twin
Coming to the funeral, people keeps shooting me pity looks. But I’m not sad. I’m furious.
I’m furious as I can see what lies beneath those looks. Those are nothing near the eye of sympathy. They are eyes of relief and mocking. Pure mocking. They are relieved as the Death did not take their families, their friends, their relatives, their acquaintances, and especially not themselves. Mocking? They are mocking the lady that is now lying there in her coffin, my beloved sister. They smirk with their eyes and say in whispers, “Oh, what a stupid girl to end her life,” “Phep! Such a pathetic to know nothing more than committing suicide,” and what triggers me most, “Heh, she is only choosing an easy way out.”
‘Pathetic’, ha! ‘Easy way out’, they said. The only pathetic ones seeking for an easy way out of life are them. What kind of miserable life they are leading that they have to seek soothing in a desperate choice of another human being? What kind of creature they are to find humor upon the death of another? Strange enough, my parents both believe in them while I’m only a strand away to jump up and tear them apart. Maybe because only I knew how it went. Not only did I know but have I been there with her, step by step, yet could not do a single thing to stop it. Not any attempt succeeded.
When did it all begin? Was it when I caught her light her tips of fingers and smile? Of course I stopped her and got rid of all the lighters and matches in our house. But no, must be before that.
Was it when she shared about cutting herself? She said, “You have no idea. When the blade of the cutter licked my skin, suddenly all pains vanished magically. Then I saw light, I saw heaven, I saw an escape. But they all flashed by in a zap, with no way to hold it back. Better than sex, they would say, and I can’t agree more.” It’s true, I had no idea about her depression until then. Now I still have no idea why she needs an escape? Escape from what? Well, again, I found a way to make every razor blade out of her reach. But then, it must be even before that.
Was it when I found her slitting her own arm with a ruler as if the ruler is a blunt knife? Was it when I found her, the one with nyctophobia, sitting in a dark corner, then stared finding home in the dark? Was it when I found her in the middle of the night vomiting until she was tired and couldn't do anything but leaning to the toilet and cry? Was it way back when her activity pattern slowly change?
The path keeps stretching far back and every step on it is a torture of hopelessness. I suddenly realized how neglecting I was, and that makes how cruel I was turning away from her and simply threw a “Just be positive” right into her face. Be positive! How ironic it is now that I cannot find any energy let only a strand to be positive. How ironic it is now that I can’t just be positive. How ironic it is now that I come to understand that it is not something one can control. Was she experiencing the same thing all along? Was she engulfed by the darkness inside to the extent which the darkness outside can no longer affect her? Was she not wittingly, willingly, intentionally suffering in silence but everyone turned a deaf ear to her? I chose to shut her cry for help out. I chose to turn a blind eye to her stretching hand. And that... is the thing chilling my spine... Who am I kidding? I feel nothing.
She once said: “We’re not ‘rotten to the core’. We’re rotten from the core. When your inside is hurt, it is damaged, bit by bit, till we’re covered in wounds and injuries. Eventually the rotten part spreaded all over the place. That’s when we’re withered, wilted, dead.”
I’m not sad, really. The pain numbs all my sense and feeling. Is it? Or is it An’s leaving that do it? Or is it something else? I have no idea. One thing, the only thing, I do know is An didn’t kill only herself. She also almost killed me, Bình. I’m, too, near death as my other half, my twin sister is gone. Yet I can’t die, I have to survive even barely. But let’s face it. I’m a coward. Too scared of all the things people could say at my funeral while I could be floating around and hear it all. Or else, I would have gone with her already.
How would there be peace without safe and sound?
_____________
Note: "Bình an" is a compound noun in Vietnamese, which its two words can also be used separately. "Bình" means safe in the manner of stable and unchanged. "An" means safe, peace, unharm. Together they could be futher interpreted as inner-peace. Both independant words and the compound form are popular Vietnamese name.
© Josephine Teale
#depression #SuicidePrevention #SuicidePreventionMonth #mentalhealth #BeSupportive #family #twin
