Bed. Lights. Fan. Chair. Why do I even care. Nothing amuses me anymore. The dull sky and the bland smell of rain. I hear the pitter
patter on the window pane, it makes me happy. Drowning out the constant noise in my head. Why am I happy? It doesn't help now
does it? It'll find a way back. It always does. I've tried to silence it. You think it'd be easy, just let time heal me they said, everything will
turn out fine. But it doesn't, I'm already broken, shattered beyond repair, an outcast in the world of rejects, I'm nothing, I'm not even
worth the carcasses buried beneath the ground. I, am non-existent, not even in His eyes. The calm will never come, the storm never
ended, it rages on still. People never understand, they never think, they, never cared. Suicide, isn't a problem, it's an art. We observe
the scars and tears but do we see the shredded soul hidden beneath them? You don't. You, they, him, her, all of you, don't see anything
but what I show you. The eternal silence I crave so much, is inches away, just sitting there, showing off its glint of steel, the dark knot
that holds, the tiny yer colorful bits and pieces, why don't I just do it. What's the only thread left in this sad world that's holding me
back, why deny myself nirvana? Nights I spent, just laying on my bed, wrenching thoughts out of my mind, just trying to answer the
only question that maters right now. I stare into the oblivion, oblivious to anybody and everybody. I couldn't care less, all of them, and
the sad part? The sad thing is, it's mutual. I turn off the lights, the fan, I set the chair in a proper position, and I close my eyes. It's time
I tell myself. I embrace the darkness as it engulfs my sanity. I feel it coming, the promised Eden, the sweet smell of cherry blossom and
the soft wind. I, am asleep.
