I Will Never Die

1

I will start this honestly. Honesty is heavenly, unbelievably vulnerable, and beautiful. I want to be bathed in all of earth's truths; golden and pretty. Gliding against my skin, thin, easy to push past. I want to die. What a gorgeous truth. Not, die, in the way that's exhausting to listen to. Not the kind that takes energy out of people and plunges stress in its place. I want to die in the way that I want to be more than my body. Feel my last breath of air leave like a puff of smoke while laying against a willow tree, in a field, with its weeping leaves tangled in my hair. Not in the way that would make you cry and hurt from listening to it. After an exhausting day when you just can't take it anymore and your friend texts you... I want to kill myself. Not like suicide at all... something new and unheard, so unheard of that everyone is convinced you're wrong! Oh, how lovely. You talk between you and yourself about the truth no one else can see, as if you're ahead of your time. Irresistibly tragic.

My routines have become too dull. They've always been dull, I've hated them always. Hated, the word is wonderfully rough. Another gorgeous truth! I can only take so much repetition in life. It's as if my subconscious has run out of ideas, it's playing the same daydream in my head over and over again. All my conversations are the same, and It's making me Ill. I'm dreadfully sick of talking about the same thing, hearing a conversation start the same way I heard it the last thousand times. This urge to peel my skin in front of them just to have one new topic to talk about another thousand times. But I can feel that hand around my throat squeeze so tight when my urge for something new comes. My mind and soul itching to leave and be more, but my true voice is trapped while another version of me laughs and responds. Swatting away the repetition, acting as if this is the very first time. I scream my voice raw in my head.

My death is not ordinary. My death is unlike anyone else's. Mine is mesmerizing. In a field of flowers, pressed against the sand with the oceans low tides lapping, on the road of a previously empty street, no lights flickering... sounds of life in the distance. The stars are drowned out by the lights but the blanketed sky is just as wonderful. I lay prettily wherever I please not whenever the ever-loving universe wants. I suppose if I am the universe then the universe has decided that I would be the one to end my life... elegantly. No one will be sad, or ever wonder what they did wrong.