Just yesterday, one of my cousins tried to commit suicide. To say it was horrible might be undermining the issue itself. I was horrified, yes, but then I wanted to smack him in the face for his awfully short-thinking. All of this because of a girl, who didn't even love him.
What was he thinking? That his ultimate sacrifice will make her return to him? And if she would, what would she return to, a dying man? I don't think she would, anyway.
Now he's lying in his bed in the hospital, barely alive. Yes, he is awake and all, but what I heard from the doctor is not very encouraging. His throat is all destroyed - he drank a cocktail of weedkillers - and his internal organs are close to non-functioning.
I know I should be compassionate, and yes, the thing is, it all has happened. Nobody can do anything anymore except to be on his side, whispering words of encouragement. Doctors said he would be dead by one o'clock in the morning, but he was still alive this afternoon. It is a good sign, and I hope his body and spirit is stronger than most of us. That is all he need should he want to keep on living.
For now, I would rather sit by him and talk to him - he can't talk, his throat was all swollen - and hope for his speedy recovery. His mother is always by his side, and so are his families. Let's hope that he will survive long enough to recover.
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