Perpetual Emptiness

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Her post was a heartfelt plea, four words encapsulating her pain.

"I feel so alone."

The post got three likes and she had over three thousand friends. No one commented. No one asked. The internet abandoned her to her pain. Her story is not part of a trend.

Hours after her post, she craved a message. She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. She needed to spill her pain lest she spills her own blood. But she is not trending. There is a new sub or was it a shade? One older celebrity musician was dating a much younger man. Tables were being shaken and broken. Her suicidal tendencies were her cross and there are already too many gossips to attend to.

At her wits end, she started sending out messages, invading unfamiliar inboxes with 'hellos' and 'hi.' She just wanted someone that would ask how she was doing, someone she can tell her pains and how much it hurts. She wanted someone that would listen lest she swallows all the pills and wait for merciful death. Eternal silence could prove better than her present void, the perpetual emptiness. The mind-numbing pain.

She got responses hours after sending. Crisp. Curt. Dismissive.

‘K’ One responded.

She looked at the pills on top of her bed stand with an unnatural longing. She poured all of them, at least two dozens of painkiller into a cup of Water and watched them dissolve, leaving a sickly smell.

She looked at her phone once more. No responses from the over ten SOS she had sent. She raised the cup to her lips.

---

When the news of her suicide filtered into the net. People made long posts on suicide and the need for us to be caring. Sermons were preached by writers and social media celebrities about the realities of suicide. They who had not given her an ear when she cried out her depression on the media suddenly became writers and orators, chronicling or reciting her pains.

It is difficult to be compassionate but it is 'woke' to be seen to be.