1 CHAPTER 1: Cold and Chaos

They say suicidal people are just angels who want to go home, I've been thinking of that for a long time, days and nights and in between, every second and each moment passes while I'm still breathing and while my fragile is still beating weakly.

I think about taking my own life constantly, just like the pain I feel, and maybe it's because of the pain I even consider the thought or perhaps the human soul can't bear this much dwelling about killing.

Let alone put an end to your own personhood.

Only the word "suicide" always gives me Goosebumps and sick fast heartbeats, even I know some people who vomit when they think about it long enough or just for a second.

In fact, there are a great number of population refuse to talk about it, and they don't even spell it given that's a monstrous crime against humanity and God himself, given that he's the only one who can take a life at the right time and the right saintly way.

But why is all this about? I mean killing is killing, right?

So why not take my own naked soul away from my physical body and away from all this pain and ironical contradiction. Why not flee away in my true nature to the unknown and the infinity of all times and galaxies?

What if I am just not meant to be in this world? I'm just saying that I could be belonging in another world that is not earth or anything that is touchable, I'm fully aware that I don't fit in this world and my soul is suffering from that since I can remember.

I really don't belong in here nor with those evil humans. That's the only truth I've ever believed.

What if this insecurity and darkness inside of me are some kind of cosmic signs from the universe itself? And they are trying to reach me so bad, just to tell me that I don't belong to here, and that this world is not my place, and that I deserve a lot better than this crappy reality.

All this pain and struggles and insecurities are teaming up to make me understand the fact that by all the laws of justice and human natural rights I deserve great things.

And I do deserve to be great, to be with a beautiful family, to have a normal childhood that I never had, to meet kind people who won't break my heart and soul, to have loyal friends to support me in everything. And to find someone who will love me truly and wholly so we can live or die together.

But it seems to me like they are just wrapping me and dragging me down to nothing but more pain and emptiness. Although, they're secretly promising me all the beautiful gifts I dream to have someday.

Yet here I am, getting worse and worse by each day and night I live.

...

The water is so cold against my skin, I am shivering, and this is so painful to the point that I feel a disgusting ache in my bones, and my head is so sore, but then I don't blame the cold water for this, my dear head is always aching me that it becomes normal for me.

The pain is constant that I've become numb; I can say that it is a part of me now, but that does not mean that it is always bearable.

Sometimes I scream so loud, louder that any voice or scream I've ever heard in my whole life, thinking if my voice is louder than the pain, it will eventually shut it down once and for all, but I only get more suffering, when my throat starts to bleed and hurts like a nothing else would.

I'm still in the ice cold water, with eyes wide open, because I just can't shut them, maybe the reason is that I have an aqua phobia, and maybe I see things that I really shouldn't see when they are closed.

Now, I begin to feel like I'm going unconscious and my eyes are stinging really bad.

And these are my warnings to get out of the bathtub, before I faint and die slowly as my body gets frozen just like an ice cube. No one would ever come rescue me if I accidently pass out, I can assure you that.

It is estimated that 20 percent of people who die in cold water die in the first two minutes, but I've been embracing it for one hour, and I am getting better at it every time I do it which is every day.

I stand on my feet and get out of the cold bathtub, and face the mirror in front of me; I strangely focus my eyes at the reflection I'm beholding.

I see a tall girl with light brown hair and black arched eyebrows, full lips, smooth chin and honey brown eyes, then I lower my eyes to the naked body which is so thin with medium breasts, rounded waist and cocked hips which is often a sign of confidence or dominance, but I really don't know about that.

I don't think that I am neither confident nor dominant; actually I don't know what characterize me or what define me as a person.

You will say that I am challenging myself by staying over an hour in ice cold water or that I am trying to break the record, but no; the thing is that cold water keeps me awake and wary, like nothing in this whole world could defy me.

And now I am asking myself the same question I keep wondering when I am in front of the mirror. How can someone be so cold and empty and be in constant pain at the same time? How exactly?

It is like the longer I am standing here examining myself naked before the mirror, the more likely I am going to see the honest reflection of what's inside.

Sometimes I think of myself as pain, as what I am.

Pain is what broke me down.

Pain is what built me up.

Pain is what I am causing to people.

Pain is what I am causing to myself.

I am pain.