Author’s Note: This story was written in response to the following prompt in the WritingPrompts subreddit:
Everybody has the ability to bring another person back to life, at the cost of their own life. You are a suicidal celebrity who can’t stay dead because of fans constantly sacrificing their lives to resurrect you.
This story was first posted on Reddit. Also, this a dark story, of course. Mature guidance is highly advised. Also, I feel like I’m not very strictly in line with the prompt…Anyway, I’d like to ask for your honest constructive feedback, still. I feel more motivated towards trying to be chill today, even though I’m feeling like I’m in a slump again.
Now, on to the story.
“Buzzing loud in showbiz today is the sudden retirement of highly acclaimed actor Pete Light, who has reportedly had several miraculous survivals from–”
I shut the TV off, as I quickly lost interest in hearing stupid sensational talk about myself in the news. They never really saw the real me. They only saw the guy who shot idiots and blew stuff up, the guy who easily charms and beds all the pretty women, the guy who was in perfectly in control of everything in his life.
I reached the point when I got motivated enough to kill myself after my manager strongly discouraged me from taking a vacation. The specific part that made me hit the breaking point was when the idiot tried to guilt-trip me about the trouble I’ll have to put the media through because I wasn’t grateful for their help in my “successful life.”
At that, I just shut up and faked another expression to make the idiot go away. Then, I went through with the ol’ hanging in my house, ’cause I really wanted to burn the image of my hate into their dumb brains.
Unfortunately, I was alive. Miraculously. Seriously. And then I had to listen to my so-called “loved ones” in the hospital prattling on and on about the money they need, the reputation that’ll get hurt, all the stupid stuff that didn’t matter as much to me. I also felt regret all of a sudden, not because I tried to kill myself, but because I forgot to write a suicide note detailing the person I wanted to be before I got pushed into stupid showbusiness.
Somewhere in the empty interactions I had with my “loved ones,” I heard about a fan who killed herself because of my suicide attempt. It didn’t really matter much to me back then. I simply considered it another incident with an idiot being an idiot.
My next suicide attempts were all failures too. Jump off a high place, drink poison, saw my innards off, etcetera, etcetera…All of them were failures. They only pulled more attention to me, and along the way, I learned that all the reports on my suicide attempts were twisted into looking like someone was out to murder me. There were people who cared about me, alright, but they cared about me for the wrong reasons.
And eventually, I noticed how many fans of mine killed themselves because of me. I’ve been getting hate mail from parents, all of them angry at me and the industry I worked with for being such a bad influence upon their kids. I was never able to reply personally, even though I wanted to, because the sickos in showbusiness told me that I’d be wasting time. That made me reach another breaking point, and I tried to end my life again.
When I realized the reasons for my miraculous survivals, it was at that time, a time when I angrily knocked a mugger out in an alleyway and killed myself with his gun. When I woke up, I saw a dead guy right beside the still knocked out mugger. The dead guy had blood oozing out of a side of his head and was holding a gun in one hand.
My hate for myself and for showbusiness skyrocketed after I found out why I was able to survive. I really wanted to keep killing myself, to tell them not to bring me back, but then I remembered how stupid they all were. I kept on living my dumb showbiz life, and after my manager, of all people, asked me to visit a therapist, I found a solution.
To be more specific, the therapist told me to stop working in showbiz. I told the therapist about my suicide attempts and my miraculous survivals, and then I was given that advice, coupled with the reasons that are “Why not stop doing a job that you hate?” and “You can’t make others happy if you aren’t happy.”
To be honest, I don’t really get myself and my decision to quit showbiz. I did quit, and I did find enjoyment in being brutally honest to my idiot manager and all those dumb suits in showbiz, but I still feel empty, especially when I consider the repercussions of my recent choices…Still, I think I can say that I don’t feel as empty as before. I think I’ll need to visit the therapist some more…