Why do I live?
I ask myself while I sit in the bathroom, a blade in my hand.
Why! What’s the point?
When life has beaten me at every turn, why do it the courtesy of staying?
Why should I?
If I could just sink that sharp edge into my wrist.
How would it feel?
Would it be like when I cut my thigh?
The darkly bright life seeping out.
Yes, why should I live?
Just one more minute- and it ends.
What would I be after? Undead, dead, existing, a spirit, another life or nothing?
Would I be what I want in death? Sure as hell couldn’t in life.
Enough. A minute’s gone by. No more.
Courage, dear Heart. Have courage and sink that metal in your flesh.
I should not live. I mustn’t. I dare not.
I wipe my eyes.
Some deep breaths,
I never have to take another.
What was that? Was it just me? I felt tremors.
As if to prove me right it happened again;
This time some bottles fell.
I slide the windows open; there is so much movement.
As if the universe itself took us all by our shoulders and shook us.
I have to get out. I have to.
I hear frantic voices.
I hear children crying.
Should I? Isn’t this the perfect opportunity? I just have to close my eyes.
Everything around me will shatter and I will be buried.
If only there wasn’t so much crying!
It should have only been me! Only me. This was my battle.
Not like this. Not when my dying means nothing.
I get out; in a matter of minutes buildings are collapsing.
The things I read never mentioned how the dust seeps so deep,
You feel like it will never leave.
I’m in a maze of death,
I’ve never wanted to live more.