Trigger Warning/Disclaimer: mentions of death and suicide; also note that these are just passive thoughts.
Valerie Scarlett Cassandra was found dead on 28th February at the crack of dawn in her room, the only place that was familiar with all her inner demons. She had slit her wrists the previous night, for reasons inexplicable to others and somewhat even to her. All she could fathom was that she had lost the will to carry forward in life. She had no energy to carry out the most basic chores, including braiding her hair, brushing her teeth or even making her bed, let alone indulging in her interests of baking treats for her beloved ones, picking up a children’s classic to unfold layers of her distorted life or summarizing her thoughts with all the fanciest words she could find. But, just before she chose to end her life, she somehow found just the right amount of strength to grant herself all her desires one last time. A few hours before she passed away, the 27-year-old treated herself to a full English breakfast with some tea to go with it, and spent the rest of her day writing poetry, and even dolled up a bit in a fluttered-sleeve top, which she paired with a half-circle skirt and pranced around like she lived on a prairie. Some would say she celebrated her end.
It wasn’t until late evening that she decided to wrap up her life, but not without finishing her tasks — she made her room look all pretty with gingham bedsheets and vintage-inspired curtains, cleared her desk of scattered notes, and removed all the cobwebs and specs of dust that somehow mocked her very being. On entering her heavenly abode, one would see some fresh yellow and peach blooms entangled with a few stems of baby’s breaths, a bookshelf full of intellect, a collection of cameras that captured both staged and mundane seconds, and on further inspection – her drained body and soul with her lower limbs akimbo.
Tears and regrets lasted only a day, and everyone carried on as usual. The birds still sang in chorus, the fruits of spring hit the newly-tarred roads, people moved on like they would after a movie ended, and that is exactly what she wanted too. What she did wasn’t a cry for help, but a sign of being able to let go of worldly things.
If only it was easy to comprehend the paradox in feeling numb, this obituary would not sound morbid.
Yes, that’s exactly who I’m pointing at, maybe unfortunate for you, but it IS HER only whom I’m talking about. Displeased? So is it the first time you turned around to look at her? Yes? Well make it your last because just as you think she’s not worthy enough to be friends with you because of your high status, even you don’t deserve her attention. Maybe you won’t care enough to look again and before I pointed out at her, you wouldn’t have even bothered to acknowledge her mere existence.
Or maybe you knew and you along with your friends must have viewed her as a laughing stock. No, I’m not accusing you of bullying or anything. A random thought, have you ever wondered why she agreed to help you with your homework and assignments? Well, it wasn’t because of some silly, stupid reason. Perhaps she genuinely wanted to be your friend. But everyone including you wanted to call her a name, maybe an attention-seeker or what’s that new slang word in Hindi which refers to someone with extra adhesive? You got the point, right? Of course not, I don’t want you to go and make friends with her just to spite me. But could you just show a little humanity by not making a joke out of everything she does?
Maybe she has a dark side, a story which you might not be aware of. I agree, she maybe a little weird, always glued to her seat in the corner with a book, unable to make sense of the fact that the school uniform is meant to be worn with style. Low waist, tight fittings, ankle socks, low slung bags, you name it, she DOESN’T have it. So we come to the conclusion that she doesn’t belong to the cheerleader group (not sure whether they exist in our various campuses, but since the IPL has made a huge impact, let’s dream on), nor the studious group and not even the sports club. How about average? I hope she fills in the category you felt apt for her.
But you know what? That’s exactly where she doesn’t want to fit in. Oh, I see…She doesn’t have a say in this, right? Okay no worries. Just to let you know she wanted to sit at the writer’s desk. Hahaha-no that’s not me laughing, it’s you who is and was and will forever go on until you get a dosage of the same treatment. I know you think she’s not capable of even dreaming about that, but my friend (I hope it’s safe to call you that), you might be reading her post that’s actually about you and you are still staring at the screen, scratching your head (dandruff, I suppose), unable to figure out who she’s referring to!
Hahaha – now there, that’s her laughing!