Atychiphobia

I am in my balcony.

Head down, legs up. It helps me think. 

There's a crack in the roof, a distance and merged slit, camouflaged between spattered strokes of rain-washed dust. 80 percentage of dust consists of dead skin, but unless of course if you aren't a moulting bird or a reptile or a worker in Dr Frankenstein's laboratory you wouldn't know it.

I smiled to myself, this punch never gets old, does it? like the one they used to crack on MIT's ARC reactor project, hmphhh..., Or was it on me, my project, they did laugh at me I remember, I don't remember who though, why though. Lot's of people, lot's of funny faces with morbid criticisms. I wish I hadn't listened to them. The fact that I did, I cannot change now.

I still remember I was scared before I did it, not scared of death no, death was my escape then, dying was my goal, I just feared failing in that too, failing to kill my self, fearing that somehow, just somehow I may live. All these years people around me have kept me from achieving my dreams, their demotivating comments have always kept me from trying, kept me from winning. Failure. All my life I have been told that the world rancors failure, disgusts it. But to risk it and go ahead ... they didn't let me try that, I told them, I cried for trying just once but they said, " what if you fail, what then! , we can't dwell with failure, what will the world think of us ! ".

So, I did it. All these years I had worked really hard but no one knows what I did, I guess it's better that way, what if they concluded that all my experiments were but failed projects, it's good to live a bland life than to know that you have worked so many years in vain. But the urge to try rekindled in me every now and then, the urge to showcase my talents ( I don't know if at all they are talents or not ), but that would mean advancing towards failure.

There was only one way to stop all this. 

Death.

So on March 31st I finally took the risk to try and die and jumped off my balcony, it wasn't a failure, I did it, I died. Not a failure at last I guess. But during some yellow evenings like this, now in the afterworld, these thoughts strike me again. What if I had tried once, what if I hadn't failed then, what would it feel to not fail. But I don't let these thoughts get the better of me. 

It all seems funny now actually.

DATA ENTRY # : 126

PATIENT NO: 13

The patient deals with severe hallucinations and relives virtual traumatic events.

Continues to assume that he is dead. 

SUSPECTED DISORDER: delusional paranoia, schizophrenia and atychiphobia.

Dosage count - doubling chlorpromazine.

Grad student of MIT tries to commit suicide on 31st March 2019. Saved by passers-by. It has been informed that the patient had isolated himself for past 3 years and had been staying locked up in his apartment.