Carl Noah

Man Against the Abyss

🇺🇸 Author’s Note 

Author’s Note:
This story is a work of fiction and explores sensitive themes such as depression, isolation, and suicide.
It is not meant to romanticize, glorify, or encourage any form of self-harm.
My intention is to offer a raw and honest look into the inner battles some people face —
and to give space to feelings that are often left unspoken.

If you’re struggling, please know that you are not alone.
Reaching out can be the first step.

💬 In Brazil: Call 188 (CVV – Emotional Support Center, 24/7, free and confidential)
💬 In the US: Call or text 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline)

Carl wasn’t okay.
It was a Sunday, like any other… but not for him.
The thoughts tangled in his mind were too heavy — almost tangible.
The sun warmed the quiet town of Gray Dot, but to Carl, it meant nothing.

He tried putting on music, anything to distract himself.
But his mind felt like a closed room — airless.
A silent battle began: Carl trying to push the dark thoughts away, while his mind — alive, hostile — insisted on dragging him down.

He remembered to call Rebeka — maybe that would pull him out.

— Rebeka!
— Carl, how are you?
— Same as always…
— Carl, you need to see a doctor, my friend. This is serious.
— I’ll see what I can do. But what about you? What are you doing today?
— I’m going to a gothic meetup after lunch.
— Oh, that’s cool, Rebeka. I’m happy for you.
— Thank you, Carl.
— I’ll try to eat something, okay? Talk later.
— Okay. A big hug…
— Another.

He hung up the phone and returned to the void that awaited him.

He thought about going out, but gave up before even grabbing the keys.
He knew there was nothing out there. No one.
Carl was too deep, too sensitive. He didn’t fit.
Relationships? A waste of time.
Maybe exercising would help… but his mind wouldn’t let him.

He grabbed an apple.
The first bites came with an unpleasant thought — the fruit, the blade, the cut.
He left the apple on the table.
Spun around himself, as if trying to find something.
But only discovered how lost he truly was.

He turned on the TV.
Flipped through the channels quickly.
Nothing helped. It only made things worse.
Turned it off.

Sat in front of the computer.
Maybe writing would help — it had helped before.

He began to type:

“Carl wasn’t okay. It was a Sunday like any other… But not for Carl, the thoughts tangled in his mind were far too dark. The sun warmed the quiet town of Gray Dot, but to Carl, it meant nothing.”
“Carl tries to listen to something to ease his mind, but it feels oppressive. A battle between Carl and his mind begins…”

He stopped.
Looked at the text and realized: he was writing exactly what he was living.
Closed the notebook.

Went out to the balcony.
The wind touched his face, but brought no freshness.
There, standing, Carl flirted with death.
He thought about the relief of no longer feeling his soul suffocate inside his chest.
No longer being just another grain of sand in the world.
Not having to look at Mário’s round, shapeless face.
Not having to pretend the world is good.
Not needing to be kind to those who didn’t deserve it.

Just one step — and it would all be over.
Carl was truly toying with death.

He thought again about what he felt could disappear:
His job, crushing him from within.
His face in the mirror — he was tired of seeing it.
His boss, whom he despised.
Carl concluded: no one would miss him.
Maybe flying was truly the right thing to do.

Then the phone rang.

Carl took a deep breath and picked it up, resting on the arm of the chair.

— Hello? …Silence.
— Hello? Who’s there? …Nothing.

Carl hung up.
Frowned.
Who would be playing with him?

He went to the mirror.
Stared at himself.

His reflection was distorted.
Mocking.
Grinning sarcastically.
Carl closed his eyes, opened them — the reflection was still there, sneering.
He turned away, shaken.

His mind began torturing him again.
Thoughts that not even he could stand himself anymore.
And maybe… maybe he really should fly.

Carl made up his mind.

He returned to the balcony.
There, on the edge between concrete and void,
he let go of life.
Let go of the pain.
Let go of the hypocrisy.

And he flew.

And for a moment, in those few seconds of falling,
his mind grew quiet.
Silence. Peace.

Until…

BOOM.

Carl Noah Salzer
✯ 03/18/1997 – ✝︎ 07/08/2025