Sean (pt. 3)

A week before meeting Sean, I was considering suicide as a way out. I hated the career I was studying, and my classmates. I hated my apartment, and my neighbours. I hated who I was, everything from my hair to my toes, and whatever was inside as well. I officialy didn't like me anymore to the point that looking at myself in the mirror was disgusting. Before all that, I thought suicidals were either too brave or too coward. Too brave, because even a second before your attempt you still feel the slightest bit of regret, of wanting to continue living, and getting through with it might be, in that case, an act of bravery. Or too coward, to go on and face trouble, to fix what was wrong, to have a life of your own. I was a coward. I was bored of everything, and I started getting bored of myself. This was my dream, I kept telling myself. Living in my own apartment, doing what I was good for. I never complained. I never said anything either when I was just starting. This was my dream... so what happened? What changed? What went wrong?. The day before I met Sean, I told myself to get done with it, and then I went to sleep. When I woke up, the birds were singing, and it was a beautiful spring day. Everything looked extra colorful, as if God was telling me "this is what you are going to miss", and maybe laughing at me. The Vanilla Latte I had that morning, the phone call from my friend Claudia, even everyone at class, they were all being nice. As if God was once again telling me "this is what you are going to miss...", pointing down at me. Every sip I had of my coffee I enjoyed. And at the end of the day, when it was already over, I met Sean on my way home. Call it fate, God's will, an angel, destiny, a messenger from Satan, Buddha's power, Kurt Cobain resurrected, or the spirit of Jimi Hendrix or John Lennon in another body. Call it karma, if you want to. Call it whatever the fuck you want to call it. He's just Sean, and I fell in love with him that day, and all my plans were interrupted.