When I was 12 years old my best friend died from cancer and I didn’t understand why he left and why I didn’t feel sad about it. I waited for him beneath our cherry three every day for five years and ten months but he never came. Everything changed and as the years went by I started losing memory of my dead friend. (The cancer ate him and he disappeared). And I’m sorry.
I just didn’t know what death is. (Happy times).
And now I’m 17 and all I feel is pain and it’s hard for me to breathe. It seems like death is all around me, it’s like a black hole that just waits for you to make one tiny mistake before sucking you into eternal sleep.
And I want to go. (Sometimes). And I want to be dead and never wake up and never feel again and I often wonder how lovely it would be to rot six feet underground and to be forever forgotten. To become a ghostly wonder.
But then I think of you and how you make me feel when your fingers brush against my spine (counting vertebrae) and I remember every word you said and every breath you took and every scar you made against my skin.
And in that moment, I am certain that I want to die.
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Short Story / Religion and Spirituality
Poem / Poetry
Poem / Poetry
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