Choices Never Taken
By: Tsuki Doriimaa
11-21-04
Disclaimer & Author's Note: I don't own Blaine Larsen's - "How Do You Get That Lonely?".. just using it for my own inkling ideas. It's a rather pretty song, isn't it, in a morbid way? Fault me if you want, but it brings back bitter-sweet memories. The story had a will of it's own to be created and a right to live. I hope you all find some way in which to enjoy it.. Sorry it took so long to get it posted. Haven't been writing much (didn't want to fuss with my computer) and didn't think about it until now...
Wind whipped through Rowan tree limbs, each gust trying harder then the last to whip as many shiny green leaves from they're mothers hold as possible; the trees, in turn, almost seemed to laugh at the barest of tries, considering there was hardly much of a breeze this beautiful sunny day - only enough to keep it pleasantly cool.
Humans were seen running from one place to another - only Kami-sama knew exactly where they were headed, for Nature's children certainly held no earthly idea what the mad rush was. People, things, animals, should take days slow, calmly; taking in all that surrounds them… let the natural setting provide peace and tranquility - not to run hectically from place to place, never noticing the beauty around them until it's too late.
Human's seemed to live such short lives when paused enough to compare life spans of say, trees, to that of a Human. Trees could easily live to be hundreds of years old if left alone to grow by themselves; Humans, sadly were only expected to live life years of a hundred - and that barely if they kept good maintaince of they're bodies.
Human's rarely cared for the beauty surrounding them when they're populace seemed to grow faster then that of a Roach's family when acting like Rabbits in heat.
The Human's nowadays, noticed beauty only when life seemed to rush by them with blinding speed; taking time only in pausing at a blinking light, to see the aqua colored sky, the cotton-candy clouds; to notice how when one's nose sniffed past the fog-stanching air, it smelled faintly of pine and sunflowers - then they were off in they're normal everyday bustling about.
To the man walking past an old, well aged Oak standing proudly in the center of a non-descript park; pausing a moment to lay gently a hand upon patterned bark, almost as if in greeting - it was sad. Sorrow filled his heart at the terrible knowledge that one day, Nature would be as rare as clean air on the Earth, or in Space. Why were they so self deluded to not see that once they destroyed all the planet life living there before themselves, that Mother Earth's heart would fail, and they're precious planet would die. If Earth died, the process to gather iron, metal and wood which are all used in building they're second homes - the Colonies - would also suffer?
Sighing, feet once more picking a pace and direction to walk, the young man of twenty-four let them lead the way. He had no real destination in mind; let his feet lead him if they wanted to.
He did however, wish to buy the day's newspaper and see what was happening in the sports world. Might not of been the best in gym class, never kept up with most games; but his one friend of silvery-blonde standing, had got him terribly hooked on keeping up with the Trample Raiders and Space Hookers' scores. Those two teams were head to head in running for the cup this year.
The nights spent watching the games at whoever's house turn it was… got pretty wild. Screaming, cheering, booing… At times things became broken over fits of outright rage or excitement. It was funny to watch, really, if you could find a safe hiding spot when things started flying.
Most of his friends were still bachelors though - So destroying everything any of them owned, only cost around forty bucks.
He grinned, thanking the man behind his usual paper stand, shuffling off to find a quiet place in the park to read. A nice quiet spot few others knew about.
Stopping a few feet away from the small piece of Heaven come to be fondly called 'his haven'; the young man looked around to make sure no others were watching before slipping under the leafy, light rope-like branches that made up his coverage from the outside world:
An old Weeping Willow.
He had been fascinated with them since he was little. The way the branches were very light, blew around with the softest of breezes, yet never broke - they always seemed to bend in the right ways! It was like the tree had vines for branches; unlike the other trees one mostly saw while walking about. And, if you were lucky enough to find an old Weeping Willow, then you had an immediate hideout! Those nifty vine-branches hanging down provided lots of cover, when the tree was aged right.
His Haven was crowded around lightly with Oaks, Maples and Rowan trees, brushes of all sorts dotted the lands about them, providing enough hassle the one person would shake their heads at; not caring to muddle through such surroundings to go exploring. It wasn't worth trying to fight one's way though the thistle throne bushes anyways.
But to him it was. It was well worth the small scrapes and cuts he still acquired after years of puzzling out the easiest ways to get past them. By now, he had a sort of nearly invisible path working its way past the worst places, heading due east of His Haven.
- - -
It was just another story,
Printed on the second page,
Underneath the Tigers football score…
- - -
Hunkering down at the Willow's base, knees bent to prop the newspaper up a bit, the man opened the large folding (Sunday editions were still quite abnormally larger then the weekday versions). He took out the comics (to read last, when the normal failings of the world caused his spirits to drop); set to the left the advertisements, then the Business section (never did fancy reading that part) and lastly, pulled into his lap the two different sections, each boasting the scores he was looking for.
Skipping football and heading for basketball scores however, something entirely different from the planned captured his twinkling Prussian eyes.
- - -
It said he was only eighteen,
A boy about my age,
They found him face down on his bedroom floor,
- - -
Another death.
There were so many now it was frightening to think about.
Young, old, warriors, kids, students, homeless people… Death held no preference for those it took; it came for everyone eventually.
Death came in many ways… Ways that were easier to accept. Ways, which did nothing for taking in and grieving for the loss, only boggling the mind with endless questions. War, took many; plagues could wipe out masses… Murders, shootings, world wars, civil violence…
Many situations could become the catalyst of Death.
- - -
And they'll be services on Friday,
At the Lawrence funeral home,
Then out on Morrisville highway they'll lay him beneath the stone…
- - -
Suicide.
It was such an ugly, achingly, heartbreaking word.
It brought to the forefront of the man's mind, memories best left forgotten, even the sweet and happy times that could be clipped to the name belonging to them.
Why…?
How…?
What could happen to push someone so close to the edge that he or she would care to take their own life, instead of staying alive and finding help - something that would aide them in moving past whatever troubles them so?
People could cast façades all they wished - they were still a fragile race.
- - -
How do you get that lonely?
How do you hurt that bad?
To make the call and have no life at all,
Is it better then the life that you had?
- - -
Suicide.
He could never…
Didn't processes the will to carry through with something like that.
Yes, he'd thought about it many times - knew people who had become so lost in their sorrows they never noticed the roads left open to them to get help… To overcome what ailed them.
Wars.
They were evilly necessary to settle disagreements that words alone could not. People would never see eye-to-eye all the time; and it was sad to know. To know when all else failed, violence was called upon to solve the dispute.
Wars took many lives in the line of fire.
He would know, fighting in two of them as he had in years before.
Wars were also the cause for old soldiers taking their lives. For wives, kids; relatives left living that could not go on without that special part of their hearts there…
…to take their own life.
Why? His heart screamed, aching painfully with memories of friends long lost.
- - -
How do you feel so empty?
You wanna let it all go,
How do you get that lonely?
And nobody knows…
- - -
How could someone just up and take their life?
Did they not stop to think of the people they left behind?
Didn't they know that the ones left would grieve and maybe never heal from their loss?
Could it truly have never crossed their minds that taking their own life might cause someone else to in turn take that same path; their grief so strongly felt? Or perhaps take to drugs to lessen the pain, only ending up to loose their life that way? A slower death…
How…
Shaking his head sadly, chin scraping against his chest, paper forgotten, the man huddled in on himself; his mind throwing out questions… that he could never answer correctly… if at all there were answers to them.
- - -
Did his girlfriend break up with him?
Did he buy or steal that gun?
Did he lose a fight with drugs or alcohol?
Did his mom and daddy forget to say 'I love you son'?
- - -
The reasons were endless for someone calling such an end to their self.
It… reasons were strange. Making sense to some; none to others. Letters were found with most people committing suicide… trying to explain to those finding them - why. Why they did what they had and trying to express how sorry they were to those they left behind.
In the end though, the man knew taking life - especially your own - was a senseless act he could never condone.
Why did people do it?
It wasn't an end for those left behind! The wound would never heal over from a loss that heavy…
Leaving a note as to why you had taken your own life instead of searching for the road that would lead you home, to those you loved and who loved you - those that would understand and try to help you!
Leaving a note only made the wound that much worse…
Because then they started to question not only the loved one lost… but themselves.
- - -
Did no one see the writing on the wall?
I'm not blaming any body; we all do the best we can,
I know hindsight's 20/20, but I still don't understand…
- - -
He could never…
Slowly whipping away stray tears, the man's eyes closed tightly…
He could never understand why people decided killing themselves solved their problems…?
It was an easy way out in his mind. An easy escape from the world around you… Why couldn't anyone simply find a secluded space like his and try to forget for a while? Wouldn't that at least help…? Just a little bit?
Why were choices which seemed so clear cut to him, to aide people getting the help they needed, never taken?
Why did Human's have to be so hardheaded and stubborn to the things lying right before their eyes?
Why?
- - -
How do you get that lonely?
How do you hurt that bad?
To make you make the call and have no life at all,
Is better then the life you had…
- - -
How did people not notice what went on when someone debated taking their life?
How do we not notice something is wrong with them?
These were questions he has asked himself time and time again… with no answers in sight still.
When he was younger, still fighting for what his crazy bunch of brothers thought was right… there had been a death that hit them hard… A blow below the belt like none other would ever be able to deal… A loss that to this day, he had never recovered - had never healed - from.
Beating himself up (as had his friends) over the loss did no good.
Questioning the 'whys' and 'hows' and 'how comes' - answered nothing… only serving to dredge up more questions.
They were never answered, never forgiven, and never forgotten.
This man has never forgiven himself for not noticing what was going on before his very eyes. Eyes that were the sharpest of the lot - could notice a grasshopper trying to escape him from a hundred yards away…
Why in the Hell could he not see someone he loved as a brother deteriorating in front of him?
Why?
- - -
How do you feel that empty?
You wanna let it all go,
How do you get that lonely?
And nobody knows…
- - -
He was gone that weekend, he remembers.
Away on some stupid mission that he would later curse and damn to hell and back again for taking him away from his brothers side.
Returning had him greeted with a grim faced, violet-eyed man a year younger then he.
The news wasn't going to be pleasant; his mind remembers thinking, before nodding for his friend and blood brother to tell him whatever it was that held his heart caged with pain.
Mother's Day, Sunday - that's the day before he had returned. Duo, his blood-brother, had ran up to him Monday night with aching eyes and trembling hands…
Quatre had been out with his mother and a few sisters for a quiet Mother's Day evening dinner…
They had come home and his mother to her room to change clothes with the door shut and locked…
Quatre came some minutes later, Duo babbled quickly, eyes watering up - knocking, mumbling through his mother's door about "being sorry"… "he didn't want to do it now"… he had "changed his mind"… "please… mum…"
Mrs. Winner opened her door moments later to find her precious son unconscious on the floor, responding to nothing she nor her many daughters did to try rousing him…
Prussian eyes widened as his brother told of an overdose of pills - over the counter pills! - Whispered brokenly of their friend being in a coma at the hospital… tears trailing freely and unnoticed down an angelically pale face…
"Nothing works!" Duo had cried into his shoulder, while he sat shocked at the foot of his Wing Zero Gundam, stunned.
Quatre… Sweet little Quatre Winner… was in a coma, in the hospital… from Overdosing on everyday painkillers… Mother's Day night…
How could he…?
Why didn't he…?
Why… why did he not come to them if there was a problem?
Didn't he love them enough to trust in their help? Their faith that anything was able to be worked out when you had those who loved you close to you?
Was it not bloody Quatre that preached about needing to 'stand together' and all that crap? And he goes and pulls… He… he committed suicide for bloody sakes!
Duo had cried long into the night; even while his brother carried him down the long corridor to their living space, meeting the other two in the Common Room, eyes stained red from crying…
Quatre Winner went into the hospital Mother's Day night, Sunday - and stayed there for a week.
He had tried, several times, to come out of his coma… but pressure put on his brain from trying, forced the doctors to keep him in the coma…
Quatre Winner passed away the Sunday, a week to the day of being put into the hospital on Mother's Day night… where his friends and self-pact blood brothers lost one of their own…
They have never - and will never - heal from his loss…
The questions would never be answered…
His memories never forgotten…
…And here in this stupid newspaper he just had to buy to check on his teams basketball scores… was another tale of self-death… bringing back the memories he had never given time to truly grieve for…
- - -
It was just another story,
Printed on the second page,
Underneath the Tiger's football score…
- - -
And glancing once more at the second page the newspaper opened to, with tear blurred eyes…
Heero Yuy wept for his brother lost, and the family of the young boy who would tare them selves up asking the very same questions he and the others had asked themselves thousands of times…
Why?..
I still do not possess the knowledge to answer such a simple question - Why?
But it is not that simple. The concept of finding another way other to survive then to kill yourself seems easy enough... But how many of the people which actually take their lives are able to turn to someone they trust enough to help them? Anyone that might understand what their going through...
I cannot answer the Why? of those taking their own lives. I can simply sit here and keep asking myself that very same question every time I think of the best friend I lost in my Freshman year of High School... She OD'd, the same as Quatre did in this very story. The song reminded me of her; and still does everytime I hear it on the radio.
To those that has ever lost someone they loved, cared about or charished, to the taking of their own life... I offer my understanding of your sorrow, your loss, and your confusion. I wish everyone could find another way out, that I do, but Life is not pretty flowers and sweet smells.
:smiles sadly: Anime is a wonderful teacher (arigatou Rifka-chan, for getting me into it; RIP my friend), on the ways of life. As said by the one we love on Rurouni Kenshin: "..one becomes strong and possess real courage when they choose to live! To die is to take the easy way out!"
Well, I do hope you've enjoyed the story in any which way you were able. Again, my condoliences (please excuse the spelling, my computers on the fritz, so no using spell checker; can't even get into Word) to anyone having lost someone special in your lives. :bows: Until next time then. Take care everyone.
Tsuki Doriimaa