When The Lights Go Out

Prologue

"If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character... Would you slow down? Or speed up?"

– Chuck Palahniuk.

Death. It's a thought. And then it becomes a thing. An actual thing. It lives inside of you, and you try to lock it away, but it's there in that box in your brain that you thought you had buried away, but death...well it cannot be killed, or forgotten. It cannot be contained. It begins to feed on your thoughts. And if you are lucky, it doesn't affect your decisions. For some it's a reminder that comes up maybe once a blue moon, and then away it goes. For some, it's the alarm you set when you have to wake up but you don't want to.

You know the alarm you set

4:00

4:03

4:05

4:07

4:10

4:11

It's a nagging reminder, that eats on your thoughts, and you're constantly thinking but what if I died, because of this?

Some turn this around and make it their friend. Walking with death, talking with death, thinking about death, at that late hour.

It's like you are in love, you think about what it's doing. You think about them when you are supposed to be thinking about yourself. And slowly you forget if you love yourself or death. You forget what's important. The back of your notebook is filled with hearts and the only name written in it is DEATH. It's written on your wrists like a crush. And, you know it's not normal, but what can you do?

My name is Festus, and I am suicidal. Ironic since my name means "joyous, festive". Welcome to the shit show, I call my brain. It's an interesting place to be. Sometimes it's a little quiet though. I know what you are already thinking. How sad? Or if you have been here, you can probably relate, or maybe not. Maybe I am an anomaly here too.

Have you wondered what gender Death is? I think it's a male. I don't know why. In my mind 'he' just sounds right.

And in all honesty, death is a concept of the mind, different for everyone.

I don't think it's a him, because of the societal oppression done by men, and thus everything hateful is automatically a He. I think he is beautiful, and wonderful. Death that is, not societal oppression done by men. When I think about him, it's like everything comes to a standstill. Like " The End". Who knows? Maybe he is the end.

Do you know how you will die?

Have you ever thought about it?

I have.

I want my life to end like a poem. Chaotically. Beautifully. Like something, that people will keep trying to understand for eternity, and never really know what I was thinking in that moment. Most people, never know how they are going to die.

Few people can see their time coming, and they plan how others will say their goodbyes, and they plan their funerals.

I want to plan how I die.

Montaigne once said, "If you don't know how to die, don't worry; Nature will tell you what to do on the spot, fully and adequately. She will do this job perfectly for you; don't bother your head about it."

But you see, I am worrying about it. We have all fucked with Mother Nature so much, that I don't really know, if she is planning a beautiful death for me. For her sake I could die in a crash and she wouldn't care. I don't want that. It would be too messy and it definitely wouldn't be beautiful.

How do you want to die? Sorry. I know that's a question you don't hear every day. Maybe you don't want to hear it every day.

I have a few ideas.

*One of my favourite ones is, where I prepare a bubble bath for myself and I take a few too many pills and sink into that bath tub, the nice smell, filling the bathroom. The soft music playing in the background. For some reason, the back ground is pink. And the music is soft, pre-picked. And when life is ebbing away from me, Sucker for Pain by Lil Wayne is playing. He isn't even my favourite singer, and that isn't my favourite song either, but it's the image that I think when I think of him coming. And then he and I will be one. Finally?

My alarm clock finally stopping.

Shit. I have to go now. He isn't here yet.

This story isn't one where I find love and thoughts of him leave me.

This story isn't one where I live a life of no joy, swarmed with thoughts of only him and close my eyes as instantly as water droplets turn into ice when the temperature is below zero degrees.

But I hope you are going to stick around for the ride. 

_________________________________________

I hope you are going to stick around. 

My Instagram: @chaotopedia

My Twitter: @chaotopedia

P.S - If you like it please Vote, Comment and Share.