Dark
A gray wall,
A gray ceiling.
Gray floor, gray bed.
Burnt wood, and items now turned into ashes.
It was beautiful. Just breathing in the air burns my already dying lungs. Blowing on something even lightly disturbed everything.
It's so beautiful, yet toxic.
It makes my whole body feel numb, as if I only have a head. It makes me feel dead. It makes my lungs stop breathing.
Calming.
Laying down, I let the flying remains of now burnt Photos, clothes and anything else set on top of my body. I let it bury me.
I can hear so many screams.
So much crying.
Family and friends are outside, screaming my name with so much pain, it's surprising.
I greet death, and it welcomes me with open arms. I close my eyes, and let it take me away from my life.
.
.
.
But I wake up to the complimentary color of the black that was once surrounding me. White, white, blue and green. Did I mention the w H I T E?
The smell of medicine was everywhere. You could smell the word 'sanitary' so clearly-
It's scary.
I thought I'd smell nothing. I know this isn't where I should be when I'm dead.
It's just a hospital.
It reminds me of what happened to them.
God dammit, why do I have to be in the same place as them?
I get up, and look around. Seeing a potted plant, I walk over to it.
A note's attached to the plant.
Go back and sleep again. This time, don't fail.
Oh.
I look next to the plant and see a scalpel.
Taking it, I decide to make this long nap look creative, and begin cutting my skin. I begin with the palm of the hand, and cut all the way to my shoulder, making it look like a swirl going around my arm.
I feel dizzy.
I lift the scalpel up to my face, and stab it inside of one of my eyes. I drag it down my face, and then my neck. My
hands are weakening. I'm shaking
.m
.
It's hard to think.
I stab the scalpel as far as it'll go inside of my tigh, slide down the wall, and cut all the way to my ankle.
How hav en't i
Fallen y
Et
.
?
I'm seeing a drawing.
A beautiful rose.
A white rose.
White
It's white.
It's turning red.
And now everything is black..
.
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