StellaOctangula
Is there cheese in the great beyond?
- Dec 28, 2025
- 2
My mother and I always lived alone. She struggled with depression and a pornography addiction her entire life. Even so, she always took very good care of me and honestly, I think she was the best mother I could have had.
Sometimes she would have depressive episodes where she would stay in bed all day and wouldn't respond to me. The triggers were always confusing to me. I never knew what to do in those situations. In fact, I never really know what to do in any situation unless I'm explicitly told what to do. I also don't know how to show emotions or comfort people. I'm broken.
Two days before everything happened, my mother entered one of those depressive states. Since I was already used to it, I did what I always did: waited for it to pass and kept doing my own things.
On the night of the first day, she slept at the back of the house. When I woke up, she was sleeping under a large table we have, with a rope around her neck tied to the table. I believe it was an attempt at partial suspension, but it obviously wouldn't work the table wasn't high enough. She was fine.
The day passed, but the episode didn't. That night, I saw her looking for the ropes I use for camping. She had done this a few times before, so I didn't think much of it. She tied the rope to the ceiling. She had done that in the past too, but would give up after a few minutes. So I kept doing what I was doing.
Then I heard the sound. The most distressing sound I have ever heard.
I ran to my bedroom, covered my ears, and curled up in the fetal position. That's all I did. I didn't try to talk her out of it. I didn't try to cut the rope or grab her legs. I simply let it happen. I chose not to interfere. All that separated us was a thin wall.
I don't know how long I stayed curled up in my room. It could have been three minutes or thirty. In the middle of all the thoughts I had at that moment, part of me felt relieved that her suffering was coming to an end. All I could think about was what my life would be like from then on, the funeral, the pity looks I would get for months.
When I finally uncovered my ears, there was no sound anymore. I couldn't bring myself to look through the window to see what had happened. I just called emergency services and sat at the front gate of the house.
I should be in prison. Failure to provide aid is a crime in my country. But I'm not. After it happened, no one ever confronted me. No one ever asked me to explain what happened. I was 18 years old. I killed my mother and didn't even receive a fine.
Now I'm living through the worst years of my life. I've already tried to end everything myself, but I realize that my current situation is a consequence of my actions. I still have a lot to suffer.
What's the point of finishing college if I killed the only person who was ever happy for me? I killed the only person who cared about me and loved me unconditionally. I know I need to pay for my sins before I leave. And after I've paid enough, I want to die the same way she did, in the same place.
Sometimes she would have depressive episodes where she would stay in bed all day and wouldn't respond to me. The triggers were always confusing to me. I never knew what to do in those situations. In fact, I never really know what to do in any situation unless I'm explicitly told what to do. I also don't know how to show emotions or comfort people. I'm broken.
Two days before everything happened, my mother entered one of those depressive states. Since I was already used to it, I did what I always did: waited for it to pass and kept doing my own things.
On the night of the first day, she slept at the back of the house. When I woke up, she was sleeping under a large table we have, with a rope around her neck tied to the table. I believe it was an attempt at partial suspension, but it obviously wouldn't work the table wasn't high enough. She was fine.
The day passed, but the episode didn't. That night, I saw her looking for the ropes I use for camping. She had done this a few times before, so I didn't think much of it. She tied the rope to the ceiling. She had done that in the past too, but would give up after a few minutes. So I kept doing what I was doing.
Then I heard the sound. The most distressing sound I have ever heard.
I ran to my bedroom, covered my ears, and curled up in the fetal position. That's all I did. I didn't try to talk her out of it. I didn't try to cut the rope or grab her legs. I simply let it happen. I chose not to interfere. All that separated us was a thin wall.
I don't know how long I stayed curled up in my room. It could have been three minutes or thirty. In the middle of all the thoughts I had at that moment, part of me felt relieved that her suffering was coming to an end. All I could think about was what my life would be like from then on, the funeral, the pity looks I would get for months.
When I finally uncovered my ears, there was no sound anymore. I couldn't bring myself to look through the window to see what had happened. I just called emergency services and sat at the front gate of the house.
I should be in prison. Failure to provide aid is a crime in my country. But I'm not. After it happened, no one ever confronted me. No one ever asked me to explain what happened. I was 18 years old. I killed my mother and didn't even receive a fine.
Now I'm living through the worst years of my life. I've already tried to end everything myself, but I realize that my current situation is a consequence of my actions. I still have a lot to suffer.
What's the point of finishing college if I killed the only person who was ever happy for me? I killed the only person who cared about me and loved me unconditionally. I know I need to pay for my sins before I leave. And after I've paid enough, I want to die the same way she did, in the same place.
