Exclusive Pen'D Narrative: Written by Jeff McCollum-Campbell

The suicide was never an act.  I longed for it. The knowledge that one day, soon, my internal void would finally consume me had pulled me through each day.  It kept my mind off of that drowning feeling, like my entire world was being engulfed in quicksand so fine that it was transparent.  Suffocating, I would fight and struggle each day at first, but it became pointless.  The drugs helped to dull the pain.  They came with a complete party package, and I was the star!  Bump after bloody-nosed bump I targeted those terrible thoughts of hopelessness and despair.  With each twist of the clouded pilo [pipe with a bubbled tip] I watched as my sharded life dispersed into vapors.  I inhaled poisonous fumes with tears of sadness and joy. 

     Sadness- for the ones who I loved and was leaving behind.

     Joy- for the end to my suffering that I could already feel begin to trickle its way down my nerve endings.

     Shock struck as my veins felt full of glass-like lacerations.  Fear hit as my heart nearly exploded out of my chest.  Still, joy... a quick pain was better than the insanity of living on what felt like death row.  Then, everything began to fade to black. 

     "I guess this is goodnight." I was barely able to whisper.

     They all thought that kindness drove me to give all of my belongings away.  To some extent they were right, but the vultures kept coming.  As if the blood-shot, tear crusted eyes did not tell my story.

    "Oh, you don't want that projector?  I'll take it off your hands!"

     ...and they gladly did.  They took it all.  My money, my clothes, everything that I had slaved for was gone. 

     "...but they were my friends!  They were the only ones who stuck through my sickness!"  I thought.  Ha!!!

     So there I was - drained, with nothing and no one... dying.  My sliding glass door flew open and the barricade that I had set up came crashing down.  It was my mother.  Somehow, as I was weaving in and out of consciousness, I must have called her.  She was accompanied by the police and paramedics who took me to get the help that I needed.

     Funny thing about depression, sometimes all it takes is one person to show you that they care and you can start your path to recovery.

Jeff McCollum-Campbell