So... I had a pretty rough senior year in high school.
It's a lot of history to squeeze into one post. The short version of it is that I was pretty confused about a lot of things, wasn't that great at holding down relationships, and hung out with a judgmental group of friends.
By the time winter rolled around, most of my friends had already stopped talking to me. I was sick for a week and a half before the winter break with a bacterial infection. I had to quit my job. I missed a lot of my classes and wasn't doing well grade-wise. I came back for a day before the break and hung out with some of the people in my classes. I knew there were parties going on before and during the break but I wasn't invited to any of them.
After the break started I spent most of my days either crying or sleeping. Or both. I didn't eat very much. Sometimes I'd go out late at night in the cold, snowy darkness and get myself a slice of pizza. My mom was working most of the time and would watch tv and fall asleep when she came home. I'm kind of grateful now that she didn't see me all those times.
Christmas passed and I saw all of the posts about parties. I got a few Christmas texts, albeit from people I didn't know very well. I deactivated all of my social media accounts a little while after that.
It was December 31st and I was resolute. I spent most of the day asleep. I went out at around 8PM. I told my mom I was going to a Christmas party and that I'd probably be back really late. I left home with half a gram of weed and my swiss army knife.
I went to a park not far from our apartment building. On the snow-ridden playground, under harsh light I smoked the entire half gram out of a one-hitter until I couldn't feel my legs. I sat on the park bench and pulled my left forearm out from under my jacket sleeve up to my elbow. It must've been at least -30C but I could barely feel it. With my right hand, I reached into a pocket right below my shoulder and pulled out the swiss army knife. I fingered through the tools until I got to the bigger knife and pulled it out. It snapped into place. I put the knife down edge-first and parallel to my forearm. Just like all the websites said to do. And I sat there like that for what seemed like forever. "What if I fail?" I thought. "Who would care?" I thought. "What if I survive?" I thought.
I snapped the knife out of place and put it back into the multitool. Then I cried. I cried for a long time. I looked at my clock and it was only 9:30. I couldn't come back home because my mom would know something would be wrong. So I got up and bussed to town hall where the fireworks are always held. Looking back at it now, I was desperately hoping that I would bump into someone there and they would invite me to join them... No such thing happened. I waited in line at Tim Horton's for tea for about an hour. I waited for the fireworks in the throngs of people swarming in and out of the town hall buildings.
I stood center-left of the square and looked up as pieces of light collided in the sky. I looked out amongst everyone else looking up and felt nothing. I felt empty. I walked back to the bus terminal before the fire works finished. I took the last empty bus back to my building.
I came home stoned, sad, and empty. I fell asleep crying to a Happy New Year text from a number I didn't know.