I Will Never Die

3

I have gotten as close to death as I ever could without actually dying. And of course, never hurting myself... it's not as passionate when what you do hurts people who deserve no pain. When the love of something builds a gnawing desire to do it despite never being able to, never being pushed far enough, knowing you never can... that is tragically passionate. When I lay in bed floating in and out of my body the most peaceful sound was the sound of the train. It's thunderous and mind rattling even from so far away. Listening provides so much... an exceeding amount, (much more passionate), of inspiration. Although most nights it has my mind go blank. For this, I am grateful. I feel unreal. And I start to imagine the sound of its horn becoming louder, the sound of the wheels on the track, louder, louder, louder... I can feel it. The brash light shining! I can see it, I shut my eyes tighter. Brace for the unavoidable impact. The sound deep in my eardrums. It smashed straight through my body as if I'm a ghost. Blaring as it passes... Goosebumps. Such a wonderful feeling. So sudden, sweet, and painfully unreal.

I open my eyes, I'm in my room feeling empty and.. Sour. I feel boring and withered. As I stare at the pink walls of my room. They are dull from the lack of light. The static from the darkness. I want to reach out and touch it. I lift my arm, I grasp for nothing. I keep it up and let it sway. It feels nice to do, especially when I can't sleep.

Oh my, I nearly forgot. My regrets. I wish I could have none. But the tragedy is beautiful although it feels quite ugly... it's romantic. I have so much, I have good grades, I am mature for my age. I put every ounce of my effort into education. I can't manage to do anything but study. I study for the same things my peers do, and somehow what takes me two days takes them one night. But I have a good, solid, quality, righteous, obedient! I have a delightful report card every semester, the irresistible letter A. Not once have I not seen it- I want the stars to brush against my skin.

I want to feel weightless, unbound by skin yet I want the stars to brush against me. Whether it be the pointed tips or the gasses burning. I want space to envelop every part of me, sweet breath slowly pulled like a string of air. I no longer need to speak, not obligated to exist or assert my declaration of occupancy. I wish I had never been perceived. To be a mass of nothingness till forever and always.