• Almost Suicidal:

    Remember when my father wouldn't let me go out for that play and wanted me to go to medical school and become a doctor? Yeah, I hated it when my father never listened to me or never even give me the time of day to explain what I wanted to be. I used to not be able to face him. He was mean and cold, never obliged to have any interest in anything I had to say. He was too busy controlling my life and making himself think that he has to tell me what to do all my life. Too bad it didn't go the way he had planned it. When he told me that I wasn't going to continue acting and that I was going to become a doctor on that snowy and icy temperature of a night, I truly wanted to commit suicide. I really wanted to. I wanted to end my misery and didn't want to suffer any longer. I couldn't stand my father pushing me around like some rag doll! I wished he would die, but what kid didn't want their parents to get hit by some bus and die sometimes? It's just how it is. But when I had my father's gun in hand and placed the barrel up to the flesh of my temple mere centimeters away from my sweat-filled forehead…I had to think, my fearful thoughts drowning my mind. I just stopped in an awkward silence, my finger resting on its dark trigger as I sat on the leather seat of my father's office chair in the den. Then, I asked myself, "Would my closest friends want me to shoot myself?" I was in deep thought, couldn't even pull the trigger at that moment. When I thought about it clearly, I knew that I was being so stupid and careless, not even thinking about how my friends and my mother would feel. When I think about it to this day, I'm glad that my father snuck up on me from out of a dark corner of the room and slapped the gun out of my hand before I had the chance to end it all right there. (Note: that's the only time I was actually happy to see my father at that particular moment).

    But yes, I was very stupid, yet courageous back then. I'm just glad my life didn't end so dramatically like that. I'm glad to be alive, now. And once I was saved by my father's heart pounding actions of kindness, he looked at me, furiously giving an icy cold stare at my shameful face that couldn't even return his hateful glare like expression. He picked up the gun from the floor; as he did this, he made me realize how foolish and selfish I have been acting at that very second. With a weapon in the possession of his left hand and a dead serious look upon his face, he lifted his right hand to point at me, disgusted of his son's most absurd decision he had seen yet. His mouth began to move, but at first he didn't have the strength to say it. But he tried again, this time forming an actual sentence since he yelled at me last. "Neil, you fool!" He began, his most infamous voice reaching across the walls, passing through my ears loud and clear. Literally. "What in blazing hell are you doing, Neil?!" I replied with my head looking away. This made him even angrier, obviously. His dull, gray eyes bugged out in a distasteful manner and were about to crash and burn. I could feel his eyes on me, ready to blow. "How can YOU be so damn STUPID!? Answer ME, boy!!" His voice went into sudden rage as he yelled and cursed more, spitting on my face with each word said….especially when he emphasized it. He was so loud; my mother woke up, wondering why her husband has been screaming. She got up as fast as she could, knowing that at near midnight, her husband going off like a siren wasn't a good sign. She began to sprint through the halls, almost tripping down the stairs in a hurry, dressed in a pink night gown, covered in a facial mask with curlers all over the place as inches of hair got loose from some bobby pins. She heard the direction of where the rage was coming from. And she found this room. Surprise, surprise. When she saw me…shirtless….and then saw my father—with a loaded pistol and this look on his face that seemed like it was going to explode like some ticking time bomb waiting to go off with a BIG bang—she nearly had a heart attack. Mothers….. This isn't going to end well…I muttered to myself. My fathers face was getting to the point of turning beat red when my mothers face began to turn pale, white as the snow itself outside. I rolled my eyes in disbelief as I knew what was coming next. Three…….two……..one--

    "Neil! What are you and your father doing and at this time of day!?" She shrieked, terrified as if there was a burglar in the house. But it was worse. My father was in the house… and with a weapon like he was going to murder at any moment, judging on how the intensity of an appearance grew on his face. His veins were popping out in his neck and his face grew redder and redder with every passing second. Yep, I was dead. I thought for a moment that maybe I would have been safer if I had already pulled the trigger and shot myself. What was better, killing yourself painlessly quick or die a slow and painful death of your mother lecturing you for hours and your father nearly ready to send you flying across the room before you could even blink. I'm not entirely sure. Trust me… either way, one way or the other….I would be going straight to hell...

    But, the question was...which way would it take me to get there faster?