NOTE: Yes…this one is sort of…dark. But, hey, the theme was dark, it’s sort of a given that I was gonna write a solemn story for it. 😉
The Death of Me
After so long of being in pain, I’ve become numb. I’ve forgotten the feeling I had before the agony. I’m not really sick. My body isn’t really dying, but my heart is. I’ve given in, given up, laid down, and died.
Or at least, I want to, if only one could choose their own death. If only I could take myself from this world, from this pain, this mysterious darkness that haunts my emotions. It seems as if that was the the only option.
Why live if I’m going to live in darkness? Why breath if my breaths will be cold? Why let my heart beat, if it only grows more heavy with each passing day? And so, everyday, I wish for one thing. I wish for death.
But death never comes. It denies me its solace and comfort. I wait at my door, hoping it will come knocking, but never does it show itself. No matter how many times I call it, how many times I ponder if I could force it to come myself, it never does, and I never have the strength to do so myself. Perhaps, one day, I will be the death of me.