Prodigal Catharsis

Long before I stepped off the chair, I could already feel the life slipping away from me. The smell of the aged oak from the cabin floor began to dissipate, and as the noose tightened around my neck, all sense of air and sight left my lungs and eyes. The mus between the logs that formed the wall began to lose its ability to keep me warm. Outside of the window, snow falling ever so gently. Little did I know that it would be this painful but not near as painful as the experiences that led up to this moment. Sad classical music playing in the background and a note on the cedar table against the north wall of the room I was in, read: "To whom it may concern, By the time you read this, i will be gone from this treacherously dark abyss. I hope you can find a way to forgive me for the pain I have caused you. However, it will never match the ain that I felt in my heart and head. Just remember that I did always love you, but I never felt love from you. Goodbye. -Jeff" Jeffrey Harden was my name, and my thirty years of life has been a bitter hell from the very beginning. I'm neglectful to tell you about it due to the fact that I would never forgive myself for causing you pain, but you've already begun. I suppose I'll stat from the beginning just as we all do, but please bear in mind that my story is depressing as all holy f*****g s**t. I was born out of wedlock on a day I never knew. I never met my father, and my mother died only a few days after I was born. From stories growing up, I was born outside in the freezing snow where my mother abandoned me immediately following my birth. An old woman well up in her late 80's, by the name of Gloriafound me a few minutes later. She picked me up and carried me to her car. From what she used to tell me, she wrapped me up in blankets because my skin had begun to turn a ale shade of blue. I had almost died but she saved my life . I wish now that she had not done that; she should have left me out in the snow to die. I lived with Ms. Gloria, for a few years that I vaguely recall. Just bits and pieces come to my memory. My favorite memories consisted of when she would sut off all the lights in the house, and light two candles in every room, then read to me from classic stories. My favorite story was always "The Giving Tree" by Shel Silverstein. She would also sing me to sleep when I was afraid of the dark. Sadly, one gray and hazy afternoon, she suffered a massive heart attack and died right in front of me. That was the first time that i had seen death with my own eyes, and i didn't even know what was going on. As far as I knew, she said that she felt a pain in her chest, lied down and wouldn't wake up to me screaming her name. I then resorted to screaming and pounding on her chest with both fists closed. Tears filled my eyes as I proceeded to panic to her absence of response. I guess someone heard me screaming from outside the house, because there was then a rapid series of aggressive knocking on the front door. "Hey?" the voice started, "What's going on in there?" I couldn't bring myself to yell back for help. I fell silent and stared forward. Nothing was able to break my concentration from the nothing, not even the front door being broken down by a concerned neighbor. Mr. Jonhson was a middle aged man of about 56, tall and broad just like an oak tree. Incredible shape for his age, but that should be expected from and electrical contractor. He came smashing through the front door and pushed me to the side. Suddenly, I was him rapidly pressing on Ms. Gloria's chest. Repeatedly he would press, but nothing. Eventually he tired himself out and flopped down onto the floor; Ms. Gloria was dead. A few days later, at Ms. Gloria's funeral, I still hadn't said anything despite Mr. Johnson's best efforts. There were people stopping by me to give their condolences, but I couldn't bring myself to respond. All I could think about is when my mind went blank that moment she had left this world for good as Mr. Johnson kneeled over her crying. After that, I couldn't remember anything else until I looked into her face for the last time. In that moment, as I stared into the cold face of the one mother I had known for the last twelve years, the terror sank in and I let out and ear piercing scream. The first noise I had made for the past five days. Everyone in the crowd turned in a fright and Mr. Johnson hurried over to put his arm around my shoulders and walk me outside. "Jeff" Mr. Johnson began as he kneeled in front of me grasping both of my shoulders, "tell me what is on your mind son". I couldn't believe she was gone, but as the tears welled up in my eyes, my anger toward life and God had emerged from somewhere deep inside the abyss of my soul. "I-" beginning to stammer, "I-I-I" it was so hard to conjure up the words I wanted to say. So I gathered up myself and said it, "I Hate God". It was at that moment when I realized that I had made the first steps into my own death.