Another day gone

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Living everyday in constant torture. I want to stop it.

Submitted: December 01, 2013

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Submitted: December 01, 2013

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I want to end this. End this misery, this torture, this ongoing pain. I want to stop this continuous cycle of being shot by guns repeatedly, everyday single day. Every tear I cry is a razor blade cutting deep upon my face. The wet trails of the tears are the cold blood sliding down my face. The slower they move, the more they appear. Every breathe I take is poison. As they enter my lungs, it burns them, slowly but effectively destroying them from the insides. I want to disappear from this Earth. Just fade away. No one would care anyways. Ending it is my only option.

I could just hang myself from a tree. I could imagine my lifeless body, hanging from a rope digging into my neck, ripping the skin until it reaches my throat, my body swinging side to side, pushed by the wind. Just waiting till my head decapitates off my body from the lethal uses of an average rope. I can see the aftermath; The thick rope would hold nothing in it’s place, but in would have evidence of death cursed upon it. A corpse, so unwanted, no flies hover above it and no creature will scavenge it’s remains. It would be there, waiting for time to make it fade away. For it to erode into the ground, leaving no trace of humanity in it.

I could just drown in a pool of my own sorrow and despair. Filling up my lungs with the last ever pure substance to enter into me then take a leap of faith into it. No splash for the world to see, not even bubbles. Hidden away from all things. Gasping for my last breath, struggling to escape the anvil I tied to my leg, ripping my leg off as I try to escape the intense grasp of the almighty anvil. Trying to swim up to the surface, but in the end it’d be a waste, for I would have failed. The rushing of water into my lungs will make my lungs explode into tiny bits, whistle still inside my body. 

I could just stab myself until death overcomes me. Letting a sea of red appears at the bottom of my feet. I can feel the knife entering my body, scarring me from the inside, tearing me up with all its might. Till I bleed my heart out. Till I have no blood to repair myself. Till my heart gives up, like how I have given up on life. I wouldn’t be able to feel pain because my pain will become a creature of its own kind. Its soul purpose is to end my life, so I could see the light of day, true happiness, lead me the right way and escort me to paradise, to end all my sorrows, to end all my sufferings, to depart me from all the worries and stress of living.

With no one by my side to comfort me, no one to help me, no one to accept me as I am, I lay here on my bed, wanting to destroy my past, starting a new life, where I could be happy or make an alternate universe where I could roam freely and not mocked by other beings. Where I am superior and where I can crush my enemies as if they were nothing. Where there are no threats, where I can murder all my problems gruesomely, in a way so harmful that even God won’t forgive my sins. I’m an alien to others.

My friends think I’m someone of another Earth, a monster dwelling on the surface of this Earth. In reality, they are the monsters. Their hearts, surrounded by evil, dipped in darkness, and solid and impenetrable by words and actions. Their minds are corrupt and crazy. Their minds are able to convert the low in intelligence to follow them.  They choose the weak as their prey, thinking they can move up in the food chain after severely consuming them, thoughtless of what the weak have done and what they will do, how they would of treated them and serve them like if they were kings. They seek the grounds for people to feed their souls, cuddled up in the corner of their minds, eating off the emotion and strength of the offended (in this case, me).

I have lost my will to continue and to carry on. I have lost my ever so great pride, my almighty giant-conquering strength, my divine and faithful hopes, my endless and creative dreams, my devoted and everlasting love, my infinitely-growing knowledge, my limitless wisdom and my outstanding, durable and never failing courage. They took me and stripped me of my humanity.

If you are there, if you even exist, God help me. If we are real, why aren’t you holding my hand, right next to me leading me to the correct way? Why aren’t you hearing my demonic and unhuman-like cries and screams and are loud enough to make storms? Why aren’t you ending my pain? Please, I beg of you. End my pain before I wake up tomorrow.


© Copyright 2017 Myghehael J. All rights reserved.

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