He woke up

It was the sun, the scorching heat and the water which was pulling him inside. He tired to swim, tried to stay above the water, beating his hands on concrete water but all his efforts were in vain when he realized, when he realized that he didn't want to stay afloat, didn't want to .......survive. It felt like there are miles and miles between him and rescue. He was drowning in the ocean. No island, no boat or water itself could save him now. No wood could keep him afloat. So he let go, let go of his struggles to survive, not for a moment but- forever. He could no longer see the sun or feel its heat now. It was all gone. Darkness filled the silence.

But then he woke up again to the loud sound of his alarm irritating his ears and his whole existence. He snoozed the alarm as usual to have it again ringing in his head. But he had to get up and start another shitty day.

It was Sunday, he realized, no school. But he could not go back to sleep again. So he pulled out his bike from the garage after leaving a note to his mum "Going to Sean's for notes". A lie. It has become usual, the lying stuff.

He drove his red bicycle having no idea where to go. No intentions. No idea. He just drove. He was at the end of the city now , the place where he usually turns around, the place he never saw, undiscovered. Today it was different. It felt like the road was calling him, it wanted someone to drive on it, the road undiscovered.

He decided to drive a little farther. Distracted by his wrestling yet silent mind he forgot that he had crossed the town border and was into the woods. He wanted to go back, back to the life he had struggling with his fears in the town. But a part of him stayed there, a part of him wanted to unravel the place, hoping to find something less disturbing than the fact that nothing was right in his life. Nothing.

He rode farther, into the woods. Flashes of his recent past blinded his mind. He rode faster, into the woods. More the flashes, more the speed. Don’t cry, boys don’t cry. Breaking the so called rule people told him, he cried. He cried his heart, his soul, his existence out. He was free. Free from everything for now.

But blurred vision and speed don’t go hand in hand in forests. He and the Bike both lost their grip. His elbows hurt along with his right ankle but he could at least walk. He stood up, still crying, and screamed his frustration out. It was soothing his soul. He was at a bridge by now. Underneath which the river flew. Galloons and galloons of water. Water.

He never jumped willingly. The pushing and heaving of all his struggles he had been through made him. His parents’ ongoing divorce made him. Peer pressure made him. His failure at every point of life made him. And when no one cared, he jumped off the bridge the very moment.

No boat, no island could save him now. No wood could keep him afloat. Water filled his lungs this time. This time it happened for real. Only this time did he not only see it but feel it. He realized maybe he wasn’t brave enough.

“The water filled my lungs I screamed so hard but no one heard a thing”

He wanted to scream but he didn’t, rather, his soul did. He beat his hands on the water but he had drowned. He was in the water. He was in the darkness. He was in the silence yet once again but in real.

But then he woke up, not from a dream but from reality. He was on the bank of the river and it was just afternoon. Not much time had passed since he had left home, jumped off the bridge. He spit out water. Disgusted he stood up.

He wasn’t brave enough.

He wanted to cry, he wanted to jump back in and keep trying, to die.

But he wasn’t brave enough.

After 15 minutes of walking numb he found himself on the road. So he walked all wet and soaked in water to back home. The scorching heat of the afternoon sun did dry him a bit. He reached home.

After 5 years,

For the first time in his life he was glad he had failed those 5 years ago.