Death Can Be Beautiful Too
I wonder how long ago I started feeling like this. "Feeling" is this even a feeling? I mean it feels like I feel nothing at all. Why am I even here? I didn't ask for this.
"Then leave"
"I can't leave, we'd make mom sad"
"They'd figure it out, they don't NEED us"
"What do you mean us? I'm just talking to myself"
"Yeah stop talking to me"
I don't want to die but I also hate living.
"Then change it"
"I'm sorry, I would but I'm just so tired you know?"
"Yeah I know"
Maybe I'll just go to bed. I won't use this knife tonight. It's so cold all of a sudden. Why am I so cold? But at the same time, I feel so warm and at peace. This feels like my room.
Who is that on my bed? Is that me? Why was I crying again? I don't cry.
"Hi"
"Hi, who are you? You look so familiar"
"Come with me, you're okay now"
And I was okay now. I don't know who this woman is but she's so beautiful.
