Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language.
Content Warning: One use of the f-word and implications/mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation.
National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
There is a bullet on my dresser.
I see it every morning. As soon as I open my cracked eyelids, it greets me. It waves good-morning to me when I finally drag myself out of my den of blankets. It stays in sight as I pull the least-smelly pair of jeans in my dirty wash onto my thin, bruised legs.
It is a punched exit ticket. It is freedom.
It brands itself inside my brain as I stumble downstairs. I see it when my eyes drift shut as I pour my coffee. I spill some scalding water on my hand. Fuck. I dry my hand on an old dishtowel and wander upstairs with no clear purpose.
The bullet greets me as I enter my room again. I grab an old locket and open it. Inside is an old picture of my parents, smiling softly at the camera as they squeeze each other's hands. I clench my teeth and crumble the picture in my hand.
I replace it with the cylinder that will soon bring me freedom. I tuck it underneath my shirt. The chain wrapped around my neck gives me a sense of weightlessness. I have never felt so alive.
I go throughout my day like this, with a reminder hanging around my neck. No one suspects a thing; as I step into the liquor store, the clerk remarks on how I seem happier than yesterday.
As I step outside, my phone buzzes. I glance at it to see a text from my high school best friend.
"Hey man! I just got this sudden urge to tell you that I miss you and hope you're doing well. Anyway, I'll be in town next week. We should grab a drink and catch up. Let me know when you're free!"
I reread the text, and within it I find a purpose, however fleeting.
~~~
On my way home, I stop at the river. I kick a few pebbles, flip a few stones, and then I unclasp the chain from around my neck.
I weigh it in my hand for a moment, and suddenly, I know what it feels like to hold the world in my hands. I open it and gaze at the bullet. "You can keep me," it whispers to me. "You know you love me. You need me."
I shake my head slowly and close the locket. I wind up like the baseball pitcher I was never talented enough to become and hurl the bullet into the ocean. A weight I hadn't realized I was carrying was lifted from my chest.
This is true freedom.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
Hi there, I am here to review, "Bullet On My Dresser". Alright let's get started, shall we?
I'm already in the first lines in, and I can heavily relate to the muse. Because I have been there. I am a suicide attempt survivor myself (I've been "clean" for two years woo- but I always remember that time). Anyways, I can see the bullet tempting the muse, and the personification of the bullet is quite spot-on for being there, waiting for it to be used.
That unexpected text message brought tears to my eyes because someone said something similar to that to me when I was in a very dark period in my life, so seeing that just brought a smile to my face. But I love the line, "I reread the text, and within it I find a purpose, however fleeting." You can tell the muse is hopeful, but knows things might not go how they want. And that's the sad part.
I am so proud of the muse. When I read the last section, of them getting rid of the bullet and tossing it into the ocean, to probably never be found again, I just exhaled the biggest sigh of relief. I am so glad they're relieved too.
Overall, this is beautiful. I can picture everything clearly. And as someone who relates to this, it's very relieving to see a good ending for the muse. Thank you for creating this.
Thank you so much for this review! I'm so sorry to hear that you've struggled with similar thoughts, but I'm very glad that you've been "clean" for two years! Congratulations on that progress, I know it's not easy!
It means so much that this story was emotionally moving for you. Thank you once again for your kind words <3
Hey there! Jacob here, with a review for ya. I liked your work - it's well-written, and it has a good flow to it. There weren't many mistakes I picked up on. Though, when you say "I clench my teeth and crumble the picture in my hand", did you mean crumple? Crumble's a bit of a strange word-choice, is all. And with the sentence "I wind up like the baseball pitcher I was never talented enough to become and hurl the bullet into the ocean", you should add a comma just before the and.
The only criticism I have is the character moves from hopelessness to hope very quickly - maybe elaborate on the change of emotions when they read the text, and when they've stopped at the river.
Congrats - you've written a good story. Have fun,
Jacob
Hi Jacob, and thanks so much for the review! I agree that the transition from depressed to hopeful was very rapid, and I%u2019ll be sure to keep that in mind as I edit. Thanks again for the review!
I'm so sorry, but I have something to say.
I understand how this works, so I will rant here.
And if you wish to read my writings, simply let me know. They will be in front of you one day.
I hate modern technology, and I fear the future. I shouldn't be texting my story into a website, i should be writing it into a notebook (which I did). I cant publish a story over the paper very well, can I?
You know, this story might be a good one, but I dotn care, certainly not right now. I will certainly read it later and give you a fair judgment, but for now, I ask the points required to publish my own story.
I'm alone, drinking wine by myself tonight. I texted my big sister tonight. Suicide may be an issue. Certainly, it seems as though all of my writing is a suicide note, which scares me. I'm afraid that I might kill myself, all I want to do is write. I'm in so much pain. Not just for being alive, although that may hurt as well, I'm in pain because of love. I will soon write about that side of myself. None shall pain, all shall gain a mere pointless identity and yet it's all far gone. No one should understand. I wish someone would, though.
Sorry
Hey Hereticteen! Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read my work. I%u2019m sorry you%u2019re struggling with suicidal thoughts; it%u2019s something I%u2019ve struggled with as well, and it%u2019s so incredibly hard. There aren%u2019t very many things I can promise you about heartbreak, except for this: the pain will fade. I%u2019ve had my heart broken before, and at the time it felt like this was my entire world and it was always going to feel like this. There will come a time when you don%u2019t feel this kind of pain anymore. It gets better, I swear.
In the meantime, the best thing you can do is eat some food, get some rest, and reach out to someone you trust. These feelings will pass, and you are not alone.
If you ever want to talk, please PM me. I%u2019ll be praying for you <3