I died today.
Death isn't anything like what you see in movies or read in books, it's peaceful.
I didn't die in pain, even though my death was a brutal one, because in my last few moments I lost the ability to feel my pain, my sorrow or my anger- I was free.
It was like while I was being beaten to death by the one that I had once loved, that I had once called my father, I was finally able to feel truly alive.
As he bashed away my dreams of a future and hopes for a new beginning, I forgave him, because I thought that I was going somewhere better and that he was the one left to suffer the curse of life.
In the moment of my death and those leading up to it, it had never crossed my mind that he would walk away a free man after killing me and that I would be the one left to suffer a curse that would never let me be free.
But I guess, the world often pulls cruel jokes like that.
The world I now live in doesn't resemble the heaven spoken about so widely in our society, nor is it like the fiery pits of hell it was said 'bad' people would be sent to after death- no, it was much worse.
I was condemned for an eternity to die repeatedly in the grave that I was laid in by the hands that took my life away. Forever I was to be hidden within an unmarked grave, a place no one would know where to come and say goodbye.
Sometimes I wished for my death to have not been peaceful- for it to have hurt-, maybe then I would have been able to go to a better place and wouldn't have to suffer.
Maybe even have been able to see my mum again and tell her how much I loved her and that it was all going to be okay now that we were together, but it seems I will never get the luxury, because that's just not how the world works.
I was given the chance to live and now I had to pay for it.
