"Why do you hate yourself?"

Trigger warning: Substance abuse, mental health and mentions of suicide.

The following story was inspired by a certain tumblr conversation.

Always drinking, never thinking. That's what the townsfolk say about me. I don't care what they think, not really. The people in town don't understand, they don't feel what I feel, or think what I think. No one would know the pain I am in, because I bury it underneath piles and piles of cans and beer bottles. Now, standing at the edge of the dark forest, smoking a cigarette, I feel empty. People have said that this forest is full of monsters. I doubt that they would be scarier than the ones in my mind. A wolf howls in the distance. The sun sinks below the hills. I step into the forest.

Late Autumn leaves crunch under my feet, as I walk further and further into the forest. Footsteps patter around me, and a herd of wild deer run past me. My cigarette runs out, and I stomp it out on some tree roots. My breath becomes foggy, and the forest enters a state of perpetual darkness. The foggy outlines of tree branches shift and seem to follow my movement. The leaves slowly make way for dry and brittle twigs, snapping with each step. I emerge into a clearing, lit by the full moon. Silver moonbeams dance through the leaves, and fireflies flit around the branches. It’s the perfect place to die.

The gun slides effortlessly into my hand, as if it was always meant to end this way. Twelve years of suffering, about to end. I hold the gun up to my head, and put my finger to the trigger. Grace would understand, she would know that I couldn’t live without her. I just hope that I can see her again, once this is over. Taking a deep breath, I pull the trigger. BANG!! The stupid gun backfired, leaving me dazed. I sit down, and chuck the piece of crap across the dewy grass, tears streaming down my face. If I can’t have this, then what can I have?

“Why do you hate yourself?” I look up, “What?” I ask. The melodic voice repeats, “Why do you hate yourself? I put so much time and effort into designing you. Do you really want to throw that away?” Looking up, I see a seven foot tall woman, wearing a glowing white dress. Her hair was golden, and adorned with stars. Her green eyes gazed into my soul, and I knew. I knew who this was. I had died, and this was God. “You know why.” I say, “You have been there, through twelve years of pain and sadness, depression and suffering. You stood and watched. If you’re so high and mighty, why didn’t you just make it better?”

The woman kneels down, “I cannot change what you choose, my child. Whatever happened, was brought upon you by other people’s decisions, not mine.” I wipe my tears, but they keep flowing, “Grace.” I say, “It was my choice to go into the mountains. It was my fault she died. Why didn’t you save her? Stop the rocks from falling?” The woman sighs, “I love all of my creations dearly, but I have sworn not to interfere with their lives.” Sobbing harder, I stand up, “Then what is this? A little chat before you send me to Hell?” She stands up too, looking down at me with sadness in her deep, green eyes. “If that is what you want, then let it be done.”

The ground around me grew soft, and I fell through. I opened my eyes in a doctor’s waiting room. There was no one else, just a lone fish in a tank on a table. I walk over, and the fish turns around. It looks at me with intellectual eyes, and smiles with its human mouth, “Better wake up,” it says, “Before you forget to.” I stumble back in fear, how could I get out? I run to the door, but the handle is locked. I bang on the little window, but there is no one outside. Losing all hope, I slide to the ground, and pray. I pray that Grace is happy, I pray that the townsfolk continue their nonsensical lives, I pray that people like me can live better lives. With my last breath, I pray that I find peace in death.

“Hey!”

“Over here!”

“Yeah! I see her!”

“Oh geez, is she dead?”

“Oh my god! Is that a gun?”

“She has a pulse! Just some bruising around the temple. Looks like the gun backfired.”

I wake up to sunlight trickling through the leaves. Daisies swished in the wind around me, and the frostbitten grass cooled my back. Some people from the village were huddled over me. “Thank goodness!” Says the one holding my wrist, “We thought you died!” He looks up at the others, “Help me carry her to the hospital.” They nod, and pick me up. As they carry me away, I look back at where the beautiful lady once stood. There was only a small fairy ring of golden yellow pansies. My head hurts, and I fade back into unconsciousness.

What had happened that night, meeting God, the fish, the prayers, seemed so real. When I told the doctors about the encounters, they told me I was unconscious, and probably hallucinating. It had all felt so real. After the doctors released me, with a warning, and a therapist’s number, I walked straight back home. I threw out my bottles and cans, emptied my fridge of all alcohol and rid my house of cigarettes. It wouldn’t be easy, giving that all up, becoming vulnerable, but I was willing to give it a go. That night had changed me, for the better. I just hoped I could keep it up.

“Weren’t you a little harsh on her?”

“Nah, she needed a little scare.”

“Still, you could have chosen something nicer, like a cat. That weird fish was unsettling.”

“Bah, you gods and your righteousness, she’ll be fine.”

“Hmm, promise me this.”

“What?”

“You’ll remember her when her time comes.”

“I won’t give her special treatment.”

“You don’t need to. I just want you to make sure they end up together. She seemed so hurt about her friend’s death, I think that will really make her happy.”

“Geez, do you even understand the concept of Hell?”

“Promise, please.”

“Alright, but you owe me one.”

“Agreed.”

“Well, all's well that ends well.”