sunday has never been a good day for me. my dad left us on a sunday. i broke my leg on a sunday. my dog of thirteen years died on a sunday. and finally, my would be fiancé just dumped me…on a sunday. there is nothing left inside of me. i just want to end it all. my life is over. i might as well make it official.
i live in little neighborhood in austin, tx just off of rio grande. i’ve always lacked an imagination so the best way i can think to kill myself is to step in front of a car. i’ve heard of people being run over by the ut buses, being hit by inattentive drivers, or even clipped by bikers (not killed, of course). if it could happen to them, it could happen to me.
so, on this gloomy sunday i decide to walk down to the intersection of rio grande and 12th street. i figure the best way to get hit is to go to a busy intersection.
i’m here. i’m at the intersection. i’ve been standing here for ten seconds and i’ve already seen four cars fly by. those seem like good numbers to me. now all i have to do is get hit by a car. i figure the best way to get hit is to stand in the middle. i’ll do it. i just have to work up the nerve.
two runners are jogging toward the intersection. probably shouldn’t try to off myself with pedestrian traffic. they might try to stop me or save my life and that’s the last thing that i want. i’ll wait a few minutes until i’m out of their view.
no pedestrians. a couple of motorcycles. both yellow. that’s kind of weird. a handful of bikers. they wouldn’t try to stop me. not a single person has looked at me since i’ve been on this corner. i guess now is the time to dance with the cars.
standing in the middle of the median and it seems like everyone is driving around me. it seems like everyone is staying straight. absolutely no one is turning through the median. it must be a sign. i’ll wait a few more minutes.
two girls just walked up to the corner. one black girl and one mexican. looks like they’re waiting for the bus. buses don’t run on sundays. why is she looking up at the moonlight tower? the black girl just pulled out what looks like a sketchbook. oh no. they just noticed me. the mexican girl is taking pictures. what kind of person takes pictures of someone trying to kill themselves? is that girl sketching me? does she see the pain in my eyes? probably not. she’s kind of far. the black girl is screaming something at me. what is she saying? i can’t really hear her over the traffic, or lack thereof now. what is she saying? looks like the mexican is crossing the street. i should probably move. i don’t want her to get hit. traffic is waning. i might as well take a break.
that car got really close! i could feel the heat of the radiator on my leg. now would be a good time to run.
on the curb!
the two girls are heather and marissa. turns out that they are architecture students at the university and they are perched at the corner of rio grande and 12th street for an assignment. something about the moonlight tower. i don’t understand. i don’t think they do either. i take a peek at heather’s sketchbook, she’s taking tallies of how many cars, bikers, mopeds, and walkers move through the intersection. no wonder i haven’t been hit yet. not too many people. maybe this isn’t the best way to commit suicide.
even though this is the weirdest thing i’ve ever done, i’ve decided to sit here and count cars with heather. she and marissa seem really happy, and it might be rubbing off on me. maybe.
heather is getting kind of restless. and maybe a little upset. one guy has driven through the intersection three times. heather seems to think that he is messing with her statistics. she has decided to name call him marcus. marissa thinks he looks more like a curtis. marissa laughs.
why doesn’t anyone drive through the intersection south on rio grande?
i kind of need to pee. so i say goodbye to the girls. i’m kind of tired. i guess i won’t kill myself today. i can put it off a couple of days.