The Unfinished Journal

... A short story

Image source: StockCake.com

🌻🌻🌻

The sun had barely risen over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the village of Grinzing. From the window of a modest but charming house on the edge of the village, a woman sat at her desk, writing. The room smelled of old books and lavender, and her hand moved steadily, filling pages of a leather-bound journal.

Her name was Via Magnus, a writer known for her poignant stories of love, loss, and hope. She had lived seemingly alone for years in that little house, her only companions seemed to be the stories she wrote and the characters she gave life to. Her pen danced over the paper with grace, capturing thoughts and feelings as if they were alive, tangible things.

Today was no different. She sat at her desk, tapping her pen on the edge of her journal before scribbling another line.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How we can feel so much at once and yet nothing at all. One moment, the world is full of promise, and the next, it feels like a burden too heavy to carry.”

Via paused, gazing out the window at the world beyond. The trees swayed gently in the morning breeze, and birds chirped happily in the distance. It was a beautiful day. But beauty had always felt distant to her, like something seen through a fogged window—close, but never quite within reach.

She returned to her writing, her thoughts flowing like a river.

“Life is unpredictable. Sometimes it gives us joy beyond measure, and sometimes it throws us into the depths of despair. We keep going, though, don’t we? We keep breathing, even when it feels like we can’t.”

Via’s hand trembled slightly as she wrote. Her eyes were distant, as though she were somewhere else—somewhere darker.

“I remember the day I decided that maybe it wasn’t worth it anymore. The days had blurred together, and the nights had become unbearable. I was tired, so tired. I thought about how much easier it would be if I just… stopped. Stopped feeling, stopped hurting.”

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment. The memories were still fresh, even though it had been years—years since that fateful night when she had made a choice she could never take back.

“I thought it would be peaceful. I thought the pain would finally end, and I wouldn’t have to fight anymore. But I was wrong.”

Her eyes opened slowly, and she glanced down at her wrist, tracing a faint scar that ran across the pale skin. A reminder of what she had done. A reminder that she hadn’t made it.

“They say suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I didn’t believe that at the time. I thought my problems were endless, that the darkness would never lift. But now, as I sit here writing, I see the truth. The problems were fleeting, just like the wind that rattles the leaves outside my window. They passed, as all things do.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly. She had always been strong, always kept her emotions in check, but today… today was different.

“I didn’t die that night. My body didn’t give in, even though I wanted it to. But in a way, a part of me did die. The part that thought there was no hope, no light left. I was given a second chance—a chance I didn’t deserve.”

Via stood, walking over to the window and gazing out at the sun that now hung high in the sky, warm and bright. The world was full of life, and she had almost left it behind.

“I wish I hadn’t tried to end my story. I wish I hadn’t believed that my pain would last forever. Because it didn’t. It never does. And if you’re reading this, if you’re feeling what I felt—please, wait. Wait for the dawn, because it always comes.”

She returned to her desk, her hand hovering over the journal for a moment before she wrote her final words for the day.

“I am still here. And I am glad I am.”

Via closed the journal and placed it carefully on the shelf beside her. The weight of her past was still with her, but it was lighter now—manageable. She knew there would be more hard days ahead, but she also knew there would be good days too.

And for the first time in a long time, she was willing to stay to see them.

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Author's Note: This story is dedicated to anyone who has ever felt like giving up. Please, know that your story isn’t over yet. Reach out, hold on, and remember that suicide is a permanent solution to temporary problems. You are stronger than you know, and the world is better with you in it.

NO TO SUICIDE. THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE.

Copyright 2024 Jen Magante