Suicide Note

Suicide Note - By Kid Harpoon

If I were to commit suicide, this is how it would be. To begin, I would walk through the High Street from the lower Rochester road and head towards the Bridge, full of conviction and without stopping once. At the foot of the bridge I look at the lions and the battle ahead, and then slowly begin my ascent up the girders. Balance for this will be essential, as falling and hurting oneself this far in would be a tragic failure. I would make my way up to a peak and stare out over the river Medway. As I imagine it now I face the new Cinema complex with the Castle on my left hand side. I have no true justification for this except that it feels most natural.

It is dark, and little orange lights are popping up all around the town and all around me. Moving cars are crossing the river, speeding their way home to family meals, arguments and TV. The wind in my face and its current underneath are unbalancing, but exciting. From up here I can see the stars and the shore reflecting and rippling, reversed onto the water. Everything is upside down.

I stand up straight and tall with my back and shoulders in a neat posture. As I breathe, the cold wind shoots down my throat and robs me of my breath. I’m in awe of the elements for the very last time.

My jump from the bridge will be a swan dive. I’ll arch my back out after I leap, and fall into a perfect vertical descent straight down into the river. My arms will be outstretched, my legs will be straight and tight, and my fingertips and eyes will both stay focussed upon breaking the surface.

So I dive, into the immense rushing wind and numbing cold, and the river comes up hard to meet me. She soaks me and rings me and wrestles me over, and shows me all of the treasures she hides; maybe octopuses or sharks, or pianos and suits. Then she spits me out, somewhere near Sheerness, or she sweeps me round to Gravesend, with tin cans on my feet and a Tesco’s bag in my mouth.

THE END!