But before he committed suicide, he decided to first have some pomegranate which he liked. He lived in a very small town so there were no pomegranates in the nearby store. It was a bloody cold winter but he couldn't be dispelled with that fruit so he would be layering clothes to get the pomegranate. He arrived downtown which took about 20 minutes by bus. bit rushed, he had put on shoes barefoot so he felt the coldness in his feet but once he got the pomegranate, his mind was filled with satisfaction. He sat on the bench and started to eat the fruit. He was oversaturated with happiness when he felt the red grains of the pomegranate in his mouth. Finally he had eaten it up entirely, and threw its reddish peel out onto the white snow and thus fulfilled his last wish before he died. After a while, he realized his feet were exposed to the cold too long, and so he thought to himself: “I have filled my stomach but if I am to die like this, I’m gonna freeze forever even if I became a ghost. It’s better to die in my sweet home, I’ll die in there.” Thus he got on the bus again and traveled 20 minutes to go to his house.
The house was warm, And once he returned to his cozy room, he started to think about how he’d kill himself. He pondered about the ways to kill himself among several options such as cutting the wrists or suffocation by gas, and he recalled the gas valve didn’t work because of freezing so he decided to cut his wrists. He turned on the TV loudly like when he watched sports games, so that he could avoid the meddlesome neighbours’ suspicions.
‘This way, I can commit suicide without any kind of interference.’ He fetched a bucket to pour his blood from the bathroom, and got the knife he used peeling the pomegranate and finally, he sat the couch.
The very moment he put the knife over his wrists, he heard a familiar applause. Oh god! Today is the last match of the soccer team he was rooting for. He looked at the score in excitement. It was almost reaching the end so they’re about to shoot out. He thought,
‘I’ll have a deep regret for a long time if I miss this one and die. Just check the score and do it right after, it won’t take long.’
So he left the bucket and knife aside to cheer his team on. He was desperately cheering, and his team won the game at the score of 5:4.
Now he grabbed the the knife with a light heart, and he got back to his own task. The blade looked quite sharp and able to slash the artery with a single stroke. He concentrated hard on successfully doing this in just one try, and all of a sudden he felt a strong fatigue. The temptation to sleep swooped down to him stronger than the undeniable instinct of the pomegranate when he starved, and his warm room on the cold night, and the joy in watching the game and the victory he’d seen.
‘I’m certain I’ll die today, so I’ll snooze for a few minutes and then carry on with this ceremony,’ He thought.
He had soon fallen to sleep. While he was sleeping, he had a dream. There was his beloved lover who smiled, only to be seen in the dream now, make him decide to commit suicide. His pain became beyond description, when as soon as he reached for her, she faded right away like a full moon on a water’s surface. It seemed she hesitated for an answer but left him alone again without any promise of return in waiting.
In the middle of the night he woke up in heartbreak. He felt like his heart was stabbed several times so he thought he couldn't possibly finish his plan with in this mentality. A strong, clear catalyst is acutely needed because it's better to be painless to him and he finally found a solution. ‘Yes, It’s alcohol. Let’s get drunk.’
He got a couple of Soju bottles from the freezer and soaked his face in despair. It’s almost midnight, and he was not a serious drunker so after a half hour he could hardly grab his knife properly. But he clutched the dagger as hard as he could with his right hand, and he had to slice his left wrist clean, just once without fail. If he gets clumsy and it doesn’t gush blood, he would not be dead quickly. He made up his mind, raised up his hand with all his might and slit toward his wrist at once. A terrible pain went to his left arm and blood splattered everywhere, but because he was drunk on alcohol, intoxicated with nightmares, zonked out in immeasurable suffering and sadness, he utterly couldn’t get sober back.
Not long after, his lunatic illusion told him. <Only after you died, she came to you and regretted that behavior by leaning her head on your chest. Maybe, she would lace her finger with your half-slashed hand, and her eyes almost close to feel your body still that warm,> when these kinds of thought became faint, he saw a woman far away, wearing his favorite red dress, slowly drawing nearer to him.
The next day, his body had been found by his neighbor, who tried to remonstrate the TV noise next door. His body was sprawled out on the floor, blood from his left wrist was splattered around the room and half of his face.
At the funeral, his friends came one by one mourning his death. An old friend of him, his ex-lover also appeared alone there, wearing a black dress and black shoes. She participated, composing herself as much as she could. Later, she’d been questioned from his friends why they separated, and she expressed very sadly,
“He...is a person who delayed everything. When he got to do something or I demanded something he do for me, it would never work in time, not a single one. He told me that when we split up, he might end his life by himself, but I didn’t believe it… and the day he died, I was about to meet him and ask why we weren’t seeing each other again...”
January 16, 2016