Multiples of Four

Multiples of Four

A Story by Krisen Lison

Just some things that went through my head last night. Figured I'd write it down.


I take the pill, just one like my doctor says. It makes me sleep, always has, always will. But I don’t feel it like I normally do. I lay there in bed, waiting for the pill to hit and for me to pass out like I always do. But after a half hour I know it’s not going to happen tonight. I take a low dose, so one more won’t hurt right? The second goes down and I wait again. After ten minutes I’m impatient. I take two more, not even caring if it’s too much.

            And as I lay there, starting to feel the meds hit my head, the depression hits. It always hits right before bed, but the meds make it stop because I sleep. But it’s too powerful tonight, even though I can feel the pills making my body weak I’m not going to sleep.

            I start to remember how pointless my life really is. My own mother hates me in a way no child should have to deal with. I lost my step-father, well not anymore, because of the way I started living my life. My sister turned away from me as I got closer to my dad. Everyone I knew from high school hated me. Slowly, piece by piece, my life was falling apart. And there was nothing I could do about it.

            But I could do something. I could put myself to sleep and wake up feeling alright. That’s always how it went. On the dresser by my bed sat the bottle of pills. I’d already taken four, what was a few more right? I sat up, slightly dizzy from the drug already in my system. I poured four more into my hand and swallowed them. There, that should do it, that’ll put me out for sure. Eight to sleep…maybe I should take another four to knock out the depression, it’ll be fine. So twelve total go down and I can’t see straight anymore.

            The depression doesn’t break though. It’s still there, looming in my head. This isn’t working. I’ll never shake the monster I live with every day. It won’t go away until I die. I look over at the bottle again, everything I’ve ever done wrong echoing in my head. There was to be a good hundred pills left in there. I shakily reach for it and the glass of water beside it. I’ll just take them in multiples of four until it gets to be too much. Eventually I’ll go to sleep, and if I don’t wake up again that’s ok. Sleeping forever is much better than the hell I live in now.

            Four more go down and a wave of dizziness from the last batch hits me like a wall. Wait, shouldn’t I leave a note? So that people know why this happened? No, they don’t need that. They all know what I’ve been feeling. My blog is my suicide note. That’s all they’ll need. Down go four more, my glass of water emptying but I’m too dizzy to try and get more. I’ll just have to dry swallow the rest.

            Can I really do this to my boyfriend? He’s done so much for me up until the point, saved me from myself even. This would hurt him so much. But I’m too far to go back. Four more, one at a time to make it easier on myself. I feel like I could collapse at any moment. I can’t feel my lower body and the feeling in my arms is going too. Here goes another four. Stars dance in my vision, it’s like a ballet that I so desperately want to join. One, two, three, four drop into my throat. I can’t even remember how many I’ve taken now, but there’s still more than half the bottle left.

            Better take it in eights now or I’ll never get through it all. As I throw my head back to swallow more I fall backwards, no longer capable of staying upright. That’s okay though, I can down them just fine like this. Eight more and I can barely keep my eyes open. I’m fading fast and I have no idea if I’ll wake up or not.

            I lift the bottle to my lips, giving up on taking them slow and swallowing down as many as I can before it hits me like a truck. I fall limp on my bed, still semi-conscience but unable to move. My entire body has given up on me. It doesn’t work anymore and that’s ok. I don’t mind, it’s a kind of feeling that lets me know that this is better. This is how I’ll get better.

© 2013 Krisen Lison

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This video is probably one of the most important that you will ever watch. Watch it all, the whole 22 minutes. This is what it means to live a life full of purpose. This is what it means to actually, really, truly live.

And by God Kris, when are you finally going to stop giving a damn about the people who don't care about you and learn that the past doesn't matter? He should be the reason why you are alive: HIS love should mean more than everyone elses combined. HE still loves you so why give a f*ck about anyone else? F*ck them Kris! F*ck them all! Your mother wrecked your life for so long, but don't let her wreck it any longer. Don't let her become your Austin! Tell your depression and your emotions to take a hike...because your brain and your demons are trying to kill you, but you are strong enough that you refuse to lay down and die! You are a fighter! Fight back! Tell the emotions to go to hell, because you and I both know that they aren't worth a damn compared to life and beauty, aren't worth anything compared to morning sex or a perfect prom dress or badly written stories about dragons, can't compare to dancing in the rain outside of a coffee shop or remembering the feeling you had when you had your first kiss. Pain and suffering and death are nothing compared to these precious strings of LIFE. Love, and friendship, are what it all really means. That's all it comes down to in the end. Love everlasting, and friendship that is forever.

That's what it means to keep holding on.

With love and concern always,


Posted 10 Years Ago

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Forget about your mother and the people that don't like you. Think about the people that do. You're not alone and people love you. Please don't kill yourself yet. Don't give up on life. Even if you're depressed for the rest of your life, it's still better to be alive. I know how it can be to be depressed, and to always be focusing on those negative things, but try to think of the positive. There is still good in life. So again, please, don't give up. There's still hope. I have faith in you.

Posted 10 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on May 28, 2013
Last Updated on May 28, 2013


Krisen Lison
Krisen Lison

I'm a poet, erotic writer, novelist, and short story writer. My free time is filled with the written word, flowing both from my own pen and from the many books I read. I tend to keep to myself, but if.. more..

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