John by Athoug AlSoughayer

Posted on September 20, 2011 by


(In order to understand this piece, you must first read this explanation.)

Wind, such a funny word. Come to think of it, why did they call it wind? Did they feel it, and think “Aha wind! That fits this feeling.”? Or is there a principle followed in naming things? Oh, what a funny looking bird.


I’ve been told I can’t focus on one thing, in other words, my mind is capable of so little. It thinks of something for a maximum of one minute then poof! It’s gone. It moves on to the next topic. People have a polite way of phrasing my incapable brain, they call it ADD.

However, today I focused on an idea for longer than a minute. Which made me happy that I want to go through actually doing that idea. I can still remember that idea, it goes like “I want to die”. There are those typical suicidal scenes such as shooting myself to death, cutting my wrist, but I’m an old fashioned kind of guy so I prefer jumping from a rooftop. I want to make my death meaningful to me so I decided to plan it well. Not be spontaneous with it like I’m known to be.


First off, choosing the building. I remember when I was a child, my mother usually takes me to her friend’s apartment. It was a small apartment that, for some reason, smelled like sardines. My conclusion was that he either had a bunch load of canned sardines because he has a sardine fetish, or he killed them as a hobby. Yeah, I think that way. It’s either you love something or you hate it to an extent that you want to kill it. Why do I say that? Well, I learn by seeing. We had a cat and my father loved that cat so it’s still alive. I got a dog once. My dad hated the dog so he shot him to death. This may sound a bit weird, but I love that about my father; it makes him easy to understand. Just two options, either this or that.


I remember a red couch. I sat there a lot when my mother talked to her friend in the bedroom alone. I remember sitting at that red couch staring at people from the window and making up conversations between me and them. For some reason, the conversation that goes in my head is more interesting than the one we actually have in person.

So I sit there and talk, talk and talk. One day, I didn’t talk. I heard moaning sounds from the bedroom. I panicked, and rushed to see what was going on. My mother, and her friend. Naked. Doing something in the bed. I recall my mother yelling at me to get out.

That day was the day. She was yelling, and yelling, and yelling at me in the hallway. I wasn’t listening because I was trying to understand the image I just saw. I’m like that; I try to understand things, because I can’t understand feelings. They have a name for that. Asperger’s.


But I caught some words my mother was saying “Freak”, “Weirdo”, “Psycho”. My mother has always thought me to be, let’s just say un-normal. That was the day she left us. She just stopped yelling and walked away. I followed her, but she told me to stay put. So I stayed, and never saw her again.


That’s the building where I’m going to die.


I already covered the way that I’m going to die, so what’s next is the day and time. The day: I chose today, the 21st of October. Exactly today, 14 years ago I realized I wasn’t normal. I have Asperger’s as I’ve said.

My father wanted me to live as normal as a life as I can get. So he hid that fact about me. He however, informed the school. The kids used to make fun of me. I thought they were playing with me. One girl called Melody usually told them to stop. I never understood why till that day. She told them “Stop harassing John! He has Asperger’s.”.

The time: I chose 4:39:09 p.m because that was the time that my father hated me. I know I’m difficult; I’m autistic for fuck’s sake.


I collect bottle caps. I find them appealing. My father’s girlfriend, Jullie, hated my habit of collecting things. She usually tells my father to talk to me, but my father always smiles and never brings up the topic. It made me happy.

One day I came back, headed to my room and they were gone. All my bottle caps vanished. I freaked out. Jullie entered and said that she was the one who got rid of them. I started screaming and throwing stuff.

I hit her by accident. She couldn’t put up with my condition anymore and left us, like everyone always does.

But my father loved Jullie. He even once said she was the one.

At 4:39:09 p.m he said: “John, I hate you.”


I told you I love to conclude stuff. So my conclusion was: “Kill yourself before your father kills you.”

And now here I am on top of the building where my mother left me. On the day I knew I was autistic. At the time my father hated me. I should jump now. Why aren’t my legs moving?

Ring. Ring.

What’s that ringing sound? A phone? Who’d leave a phone on the roof?



“Mark. Where are you? I’ve been looking all over for you. Were you at that party?”

“I’m sorry, this is John not mark. I’d look for him, but I’m dying soon so sorry.” “What?! Wait, wait, what’s going on? who are you?”

“I’m John, and I’m committing suicide. Who are you?”

“Hello John, I’m Eve. What do you say we meet and talk about your suicide?”

“Do we have to? I need to die today.”

“Yes, we have to John.”


“Where are you?”

“I’m at building 3745 at red avenue. Rooftop”

“Okay stay put! I’m on my way”.

Posted in: John