( ... ... ) could look up and through the window to see the sky. My hopes were to try anything, however slight, to strap onto some sort of sanity. But my depression told me there was nothing to see out that window anyway, and the numbness I felt only added to the confused void that held me.
The jail cell was cold, and darkness was the view through the window, just as my depressed thinking said it would be. But I did notice a hint of the glow from a nearby moon. The noise around me, and up and down the long corridor of cells, was horrendous, louder than a crowd in a sold-out arena. But my numbness almost managed to block it out as I half-heartedly thought of ways to end my life.
A recurring thought that haunted me was, ^how can I live with myself?^ The suddenly I became aware of what an odd thought that really was. ^Am I one being or two? If I can't live with myself, then there must be two of me. There must be the "I" and "self" that "I" cannot live with. Maybe only one of them is real. But how do I know which one?^
My supper of beans and rice on a plastic tray was slid into the cell through a slot in the bars at floor level. I left it untouched on the floor until lights out, when I awoke from a brief nap to clammy darkness. The guard came by to nab the food tray─well, at least I thought she did. The moon had changed positions and was now squarely framed in the tiny window, which my eyes grabbed onto.
( .... )
... James Nussbaumer, The Master of Everything.
Marti lay on her bed for nearly an hour, staring up at her ceiling trying to contemplate the easiest way to do it. Break up with Jack. She could hardly bear the thought. Easy? There's no way, she thought. How do you take something like simultaneously ripping out your and the one you love's hear and label it anything resembling ease? But I have to do it, she urged herself forcefully. He'll realize it's for the best.
Marti knew she would never be able to do it in person, one look into those dark blue eyes and her resolve would evaporate. With that thought secure in her mind, she nudged her phone from her purse and prepared to do the most despicable thing she had ever done─break up with the love of her life through text.
Every button she pushed seemed to punch her in the stomach, expelling any breath she managed to take. By the time she was done, she was lightheaded. But there it was. The message sat on the screen glaring at her with such indignation that she could have thrown up.
We can't be together anymore. I'm sorry.
As an afterthought, at the end she added: Please, don't ask why. Her thumb hovered over the send button for several long moments before she squeezed her eyes closed, bit back her tears, and pressed it.
The moment it was done, second thoughts and regrets created a turmoil in her mind. What have I done? She asked herself, I can never undo this. What if he hates me? I couldn't live with myself. How can I live with myself knowing that I hurt him? What if it doesn't hurt him? What if this is what he wants? Even if he doesn't see it, this is what he wants. It's not what I want. What have I done? She struggled out of ( ... ... )
.... Cydi J.C., Live on.