Therapuedic Suicide

Agony slowly inhabits my dying body, pain envelopes my decaying senses, drowning out all other things. My fear is gone it disappeared when the cold metal blade and the sharpened tang sunk into my wrists, the crimson ink of my life long agony cascaded down my arms and fell to the floor.

I now drown in my own blood considering nothing but my approaching death. My rasping breaths seem almost therapuedic to me. The people that mocked my being now must realize it is because of them that I am wallowing in agony on the brink of death.

No one will find me until it is too late to do ANYTHING, their sadness will be only a fraction of what I had to endure every single day of my wasted existence. Their tears will eventually stop flowing and my demise will be just another death, another ending that no one will care about. I'm just another dying star among the trillions that inhabit this universe.

My heart has been ripped from me and broken and now this is my only escape, my only way out of pain, and fear. No one noticed in my life, now at least I hope they'll notice in my death. Maybe they'll realize I wasn't a poppet that could feel nothing, that could be brutalized and beaten beyond repair.

I can tell that my end is near, my story is at its last chapter. No one will read it. It's something I realize, that I really am alone in this world, though I am surrounded by people who care... betrayal and pain is only heartbeats away, which I am running out of.

The numbness of death has fallen upon me. Death's icy cold breath leaves me paralyzed, yet finally glad that death is so close in coming to me. My breathing has become so difficult tears flow down my ice cold cheeks with every struggled breath I take.

The pain is one of few things I feel, but even though I am so close to death that I can feel it's cruel, menacing grip wrapping around me, I feel some sorrow. Some unbearable pain that not even my blood and tears can wash away, it feels as though my soul is being ripped from me.

I struggle to contain it but with no success. The pain slowly begins to become less and less agonizing on my dying body but finally when the emotional pain seems to have subsided my breathing begins to become fainter and fainter, until I begin to see only white light, I feel a pull, I am only a shadow, pure black. I begin to walk into the light. I look back at the mutilated body of myself, but I do not turn back, I keep walking.
-Dead.

by MrNobody
posted on 04/05/2007