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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Drama · #741742
Words quickly scribbled on a page by a man about to commit suicide.
As I sit here now, I can’t believe what I’ve wasted. All the times I’ve turned my head away. I can’t help but regret every single moment of my life that I wasn’t honest. Each instance I didn’t speak up, and all the hard times I let drag me down. Now I know the truth. Now, I see the world, and I can’t help but smile.
I fold over and burn up; my skin rots off and falls to the floor. Suddenly, I am a new person, breathing and free, like an animal released into the wild. I can think for myself now, only because now nothing matters. There is no bias or prejudice where I stand, because all I have left to ridicule is myself, and that’s impossible, because everything about me is beautiful.
My skull shrinks and wraps around what I finally hold to be valuable. The way my father woke me up in the morning; the drips of rain clinging to the window, even after the storm has passed; that beautiful, purple sky. There’s much to die for, but even more to live for.
And so now I sit here, and everything is over. But I’m not sad, because with this end, comes a beginning. A boundless, undeniable road to whatever I imagine. I know I’m being selfish, and I realize what I’m leaving behind. But I have my memories to keep me busy…along the way.
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