Death is here and he sits in the shadows waiting for me. I can see him lurking around outside and something inside me desires to learn something more. Who is this shadow that everybody fears and nobody willingly runs towards? I asked for salvation but somehow this is all that appears.

I don’t want to pretend like I am anybody special, that if I try hard enough I can evade death. Death is just this entity that I wish that I could befriend. It pains me to know that he is destined to be an outcast because nobody in this life could ever withstand his touch. Imagine that existence stuck somewhere between here and limbo. I think I would become disgruntled a little bit like the cowards that have come before.

I maintain that if I would have known how much living would have hurt I don’t know if I would have chosen this chance to experience this cruel, cold world. I hate the thought of dying and having my memories ripped away. I hate the idea of falling in love over and over again only to have it ripped away by all the pain. I don’t want to sit here waiting to die like an pecking order but what choice do I have? I can’t help but feel fear for what is coming and this is a feeling I can no longer try to ignore.

I think about my mom whom I haven’t seen in years and all I want to do is get into my car and drive. I think about my Dad and my sister’s who will forever hate me and it takes everything inside of me to not want to cry. I think that is why I began to close myself off from the Universe because if my own blood don’t even want me what shot in the dark do I actually have?

So I gravitated towards animals because they had no choice but to be my friend. If I showed them unconditional love and compassion they would always be there for me right until the end. The end in question though gets define by which story line you decide to follow and lead. I can’t believe when they are gone they are gone and its forever, there is no screaming or bartering you can do to every get them back. Will I see you again? I will never know. I hope in the end you all will remember because that thought is too possible for me to ever take back.

I can’t stop the feelings of the fear of being alive consumes me. Is today the day that I will be struck and death will defeat me or will I have the grace and courage to believe that I have it in me to live another day. I believe that I do until I see what other humans are capable of. Who can hurt a child, a teen a loved one like they didn’t have their whole future to look forward too now they will never hope to get it back.

Imagine being the reason why somebody else’s loved one is gone. With no thought or even consideration you took their last breath as you sat back feeling justified. Why do I have to be human? I am not like them and I am incapable of wading through all this pain. The problem with pain is you get used to feeling that the absence of such a feeling will have you feeling like nothing again. All I wanted was an existence where I was loved and a chance where I got to feel good but I can’t help but look to the darkness and only seeing rain.

I am used to feeling hated it is a feeling that has all but enveloped me that provided me immense comfort when I was only a teen. I used to get teased for smelling like cow sh*t. There was a time when I didn’t even think that my schoolmates remembered my name. I hated talking. Hated the sound of my own voice. I can’t tell you what it feels like growing up hating yourself at such a young age. I mean how could so many people be wrong? They must be right. I think it might be my time to close my eyes and drift off into the night.

I think about my friends who through the grace of God where able to do it so I call on them to give me the strength to see this through. They never egg me on or try to get me to do it though. All they want is for me to try and see the good inside of myself and believe that I will be ok. So I shut myself off. Why talk to those who only jeer you on, who laugh at you in silence only to let out when back are turned. I know I am weird and I was born different. I don’t understand why I am not privy to the same that most get to live out and see.

I know, I know focus on all the things you don’t have. All the things you believe that the Universe could never possibly take away. The problem with good days is they are soon suffocated by the bad. Never to be the same again. A shell of a person is all that is left to be had.

I live in a bubble and this time I think it is about to pop. All the negativity is wearing down heavy on me as I bottle it all up inside and refuse to talk. Nobody cares about this part of the journey. How much it hurts and how I never want to get up again. I wish that I was strong enough to believe that there was something worthy to be had after all this but my eyes are open to the idea that it is not possible and we will never be able to be the same again.