December 8, 2012
Dear Death,
I've tried writing to you multiple times before, but I just can't get the words out.
I can't write my feelings in a letter.
I can't turn my words into feelings.
It's really quite frustrating.
I'm going to die soon, in the next few days, actually.
I've prayed to God that I'll live till Christmas, only to find out I won't.
But that's okay, I'll still pray, even though I don't believe anymore.
My parents worry over me, they stress over me, do everything in their power to try and save me, but there's no point in it.
Simply no point at all.
I can't help but feel a darkness, like a tidal wave, washing over, consuming me. It drowns me, flowing down my throat. Soaking through my skin, reaching my heart, turning it black. My soul is set on fire, burning and burning, feeling pain, until the darkness washes away the flames. Leaving nothing but my soul into ashes.
And I thought fire was supposed to shine brighter in darkness.
I worry, like my parents. I get stressed, like my parents. I have feelings like every human being.
But I can't form them into words.
It's impossible for a person to feel someone else's exact feelings.
Now, changing the topic.
I would like to be friends with you Death. After all, I'm going to be meeting you soon enough.
But how do you make friends?
People say as long as you're nice, you'll make friends. When really that's not how you make them at all.
You can't be yourself, that's how.
If everyone was just themselves, they wouldn't have any friends at all.
But everyone is like everyone, so now they have lost their true selves.
That's why I don't have friends, because I'm truly myself.
It's quite depressing actually.
So just this once I'm going to try and make a friend, while being myself. I'm going to see if it's actually possible.
I have a feeling it won't.
And that's okay, because I'll die knowing I've spent my whole life being myself.
The only reason why I've gotten away with being myself is because I've been rotting my whole life. That gives me an excuse to be depressed, paranoid, worried, stressed, and dying. I've been those things my whole life. In fact, I think I've been those things for so long, that I'm not even considered human anymore.
I mean, I know I am. It's just that everything inside me has died.
I am nothing. Just an empty body, lying on a bed, writing to Death.
And that's okay.
People who aren't like me, who try to be themselves, other people always ruin them.
For example, my cousin, she got ruined.
From what she told me, she hid in the closet, when all of our family members visited. Waiting until they all sat down, she popped out of the closet, wearing the sparkliest, gayest suit you would ever see.
One thing I forgot to mention is our family is extremely religious and against gays.
I'll just leave you to your imagination as to what their reaction was.
Long story short, she snuck off to the hospital to visit me.
She told me the whole thing. I thought it was amusing and almost laughed, but she told it with sad eyes. A look I had much too often. I was going to ask her if she was okay, when really that was a stupid question.
She walked over to my bed, and gave me an awkward hug. I normally would have objected because I hate hugging, but I didn't. "You're nice," she said once she released me. I nodded. Then she left.
Three hours later her parents found her hanging from the ceiling fan with nothing but a rope tied around her neck.
The fact that she committed suicide wasn't disturbing, what was disturbing was the people who caused her to.
It's really quite depressing.
I imagine that must've been hard work for you. You must've had to untie the noose, and carry her heavy, cold body, to whatever place you take them.
I just hope I won't be cold when you take me.
But then again I already am.
Yours soon,
The Dying Girl
