TW: mention of death and suicide.
Isn't it excruciatingly beautiful?
That instead of overdosing myself on those pills
I chose to write one sentence in my book
Not being able to stop until I formed a whole chapter
To write to forget about the subject "I am ill"
It was damned beautiful
That instead of strangling myself,
I chose to dance happily to a song I just heard somewhere
That instead of killing myself,
I chose to grab a brush and made an art that tells
Isn't it painfully beautiful?
That I chose to pause my own death
Wiped my tears and stand on my own
Just to produce a melody, to put more hue,
And to continue my novels' blues
Isn't it?
Death has always been feared by me
The agonies of living
All that is lost
And the fact that I continuously suffer
To think that after all those truths,
You might be too shocked to know
That it wasn't death nor pain of living
I was afraid of
But 'that thing' that could kill
Not my body but my soul
Something to tear my entirety
Till it makes a breathing corpse
Because the next thing that would end me
Is not the world turning its back on me
It won't be because of the possibility that my life could fuck up
Or losing a game I told everyone about
I feared for the time I could lose what I already have
And what I did own and flourished
From my childhood that saved
To the present me who lived
To lose something I couldn't hold
A part of me that this life has told
Cause the moment I lose these hobbies I seemingly hoared
It was worth killing not just the physical body but also the soul-
And then there'll be nothing left
But a lifeless corpse
I tremble in fear with the possibility
Of the time that I can no longer paint or write or move
These thine hands that created these arts
I am terrified
For I know that I will no longer be saved
To die in my mind, as my body decays
and this soul whose life ran away from
Will no longer be named
Arts and crafts
Music and Lights
Games and Masquerades
To be lost in my own oblivion that holds my sanity
I call it a fire that won't stop telling me to exist
And if this light was put down,
There will be no rest nor peace
I can surely lose it all but just not this
Losing this one thing, would also mean losing me...my identity
For it will be the same time when my only salvation would cease to exist
____________________________
Writer's Note:
We'll just have to live along with grief, I guess?
We will get through this. We always did.
