Empty

Empty.

The feeling that once described my life.
The feeling that makes grown men so desperate
they give in and find themselves dead.
Who would choose this fate?
Who would be so lost that they would end their own life?

Me.

Being empty is almost indescribable.
It restricts your breathing,
making you weak at the knees.
You can hardly live, let alone walk.
You are isolated,
So much that you might as well be dead to the world.
So why not become that?


Who would stop you?


I would.

I was empty once.
Hopeless, helpless, and hollowed by grief.
At the breaking point.
Close to dying.
The gun at my head, the trigger encased in my fingers.

Then I realized this was the end of the line.
I had two choices.
One was pull he trigger and die,
Become weightless, gone,
There would be no more pain were I would be going.

But I chose some thing else.
Why?
Death would stop my pain,
But it would cause others to become just as empty as I was.
The metal barrel of the gun on my temple.
It was cold, heartless, and unforgiving.
It would not save me.

The gun shattered at my feet.
I was alive,
So joyously alive.
I would change,
Prevent others from sharing the same fate.
That is what I am doing.


Thank you.