To say it all ended that day would be to lie — to exaggerate — and yet there is still somewhat of a truth to it. Something did end, however small or insignificant it may seem to the people not involved. My life.
But I will not go without telling my story, without sharing my experiences in the hopes of finding someone who relates. I hope to be there for someone, not just be a part of a statistic that will soon be forgotten or replaced.
I want my story to be told; I want to be remembered, even if it is only for the next 10 years. And I hope, dear reader, that you will live on: to honour my memory by telling my story, to remember, and to be able to say the words "I lived".
If there is an afterlife, I hope that when your time is done, we will meet and you will smile; smile for the life you lived, for the stories you took part in, for the memories you shared.
I hope to hear you say "I lived, and I told your story." for then I could thank you, and ask you to tell yours.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the weak of heart
PoetryA simple collection of somewhat personal poetry. It is mainly directed at the following groups: The fatherless gays. The band kids. The people who didn't have a fnaf phase. The people who want to run away with the love of their life. The people who...
