The Ghost We Left Behind

Underwater

I contemplate nature. The most beautiful thing, the most beautiful work that has ever existed. The work of God.

I watch the waves dance this magnificent slow dance, it's wonderful, the sun makes it sparkle with a thousand lights. Like a perfect dress seen in fairy tales.

The trees perform an extraordinary konpa that even the greatest dancer could not follow. It's magnificent, everything is perfect.

Yet something is missing, because even with all this, even with this divine beauty, I cannot smile.

I feel this gaping hole in my heart, this poison that infects every thought, every movement. I can't even smile at this performance worthy of the greatest choreographer.

I like it, but not enough to make me feel anything stronger than mere admiration.

I embrace my bottle of whiskey, which is now my greatest and most faithful companion, the warmth makes me grimace as I close my eyes, which temporarily plunges me into darkness.

I sigh for the thousandth time, take another sip, and dive into the water.

As deep as the abyss of hell, but there I feel better, there the sea shows me the dance steps that I enjoy following with it.

I no longer breathe, it's painful, but less painful than the hole that is deep within me. I love it.
This sensation of no longer being on earth.
This sensation of no longer existing... I love this sensation of dying.