Book 1 in the "Unspoken Words" series. This is a short story in which every chapter is a short diary entry.
"And with that, she jumped."
~
After blowing out the candles on her birthday cake during her 17th birthday, Maya Greene takes her last breat...
Do you ever feel like going outside in the middle of the night and walk around under the starry sky and not actually do anything, but just observe?
I do.
Every evening.
Mostly every Friday evening.
It's just that everything is so much more beautiful in the dark.
And I kind of like walking through the dark with my hands stuffed in the pockets of my dark blue coat, breathing cold hair against the gray scarf wrapped around my neck and with my frozen toes slowly warming up in my comfy boots.
My gaze follows the red leaves floating by, lost and abandoned. Periodically, a wave of them pours down from the trees I walk past every time the wind blows harder.
It's raining colorful leaves.
The magic of autumn.
I love autumn.
Something is ending in the most beautiful way possible and something new is about to start.
I'm glad I'm taking my last breaths in autumn.
Thinking about death is kind of scary.
Once you die, all that would be left of you are bones under dirt.
But I'd rather rot under the dirt than to stay here in this cold world and fake my laughs, my smiles and my life. And because it hurts when he presses his body against mine, his dirty hands running across my bare skin while his cold breath hitches in my ear.
Another reason to why I'd rather rot under dirt than to keep living, is because when the soul is tired, the world is of no help.
You can laugh with the world. We all can. But you can't cry with the world. No matter who you spend your time with, at the end of the way, when the sun falls out of the sky, it's just you, your tears, the moon and a couple of sparkly stars.
Maybe because the world doesn't know that it doesn't have to say anything. Just a simple hug would work. It really would.
All humans should hug humans when they're crying. Let's all be huggers! Haha, I'm laughing. Or at least chuckling.
But who am I to make the rules for humanity?
I'm just a fake bitch.
Why would the world listen to someone who hurts others to fill the echoing hole of jealousy within them with comfort? And who always goes back to what hurts them, just because they're simply too scared to be lonely.
Anyway
S.B, can I ask you something?
Would you rather live as a monster or die as a good person?
Think about it and tell me. Tell me at least before the countdown ends.
Meanwhile, I'll continue this endless walk under the starry sky.
Sincerely, whatever.
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