Today is the day that I leave my safe haven, and return back to the hell I wish to leave.
"Are you okay, Mikey?"
No, I'm not. In fact, the smile that everyone solely adores from me feels crooked.
In fact, forcing myself to live has been quite tiring, and it kills me more than any other pain could.
In fact, when I look into the eyes of those I love, I feel nothing but guilt in shame for ever walking into their lives.
In fact, waking up itself makes me sadder than I've ever been each millisecond of my life. In fact, the only thing that can ease my frantic mind is a vision of death itself.
Tomorrow is the day I plan the day I've only dreamed of, and give up what could've been either precious...or a total disaster— just as it was before.
"Don't you want to be free? You have one year left. Hang on Mikey."
I'm sorry, I cannot do so.
Death seems to be the only escape of the hell I live in.
The once angelic hands that strangled at my mental and physical state will no longer reach me again.
I will never have to please nor disappoint anyone again, not even myself for my existence.
I won't be haunted by the memories of my body being torn by numerous selfish men that I loved and fear.
I won't be trapped in this mind that I cannot seem to analyze, decipher, and escape.
The first day of school is the day I'll pick my favorite spot, and live out my favorite nightmare.
"Where's Mikey?"
She's dropping that six year old backpack, smiling warmly at the scenery that surrounds her last seconds of life.
Her once trembling, squeezed, and scarred body will walk along that same highway her bus passes every morning with the prettiest sight of the sun.
She'll no longer keep her eyes open, but instead walk backwards into internal slumber.
She'll vision those same vibrantly, colorful petals flying around her frame—just as they did in her sweet little nightmare.
And at last, she leans back once her feet comes to a stop, every soon-to-be nostalgic memory flashing in her mind as she allows herself to fall.
Any sense of selfishness or guilt is now out of the window, as for she couldn't care anymore.
She is now living her pleading nightmare, and that is death.
