I sat by one of the graves in the cemetery, feeling freer than ever, maybe I was as odd as my peers and my family thought, because how can I be so happy among the dead and so sad and forlorn among the living? Her name was suicide for me, she also went by death, went by the reaper for others. I felt her smell, her dark scent that I had once become so used to. She left me on that day, around an year ago, and despite constantly feeling her presence, she never quite visited me in person again until just recently, and suffice to say I’d missed her presence.
She seemed distant, forlorn and unsure of herself as she stood beside me waiting for what came next. I wasn’t ready. Maybe several times in the past I had been, yet she wasn’t ready to take me with her to the abyss and she had to leave me one too many times to continue with her day job freeing the living.
She was here now and we seemed like strangers. she looked at me suddenly and said, yet again I’m not here for you, child, much as wed both want that to be so and tears welled in both our eyes as she touched my cheek with her cold fingers. I knew she had to go, outside was a pandemic and she had more souls to transport. I wouldn’t begrudge her her duties, which is not to say I was all too happy about them.
I loathed her for never taking me with her, a deep resentment we both knew I carried from when I was a young person. she saw it in my eyes and felt it in my heart yet she couldn’t disobey her orders and take me with her yet she knew how much I hated staying here, inside my head and on this earth. She was taboo to talk about, she was hated and despised yet she was inevitable for every soul….she was death.
She existed in so many levels… she existed as suicides, homicides, pandemics… she existed through time through age through disease and through natural causes…..she was never accepted for who she was, hated by the masses and discussed in hushed tones as if she wasn’t all the freedom that humanity desired.. https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/bering-in-mind/being-suicidal-what-it-feels-like-to-want-to-kill-yourself/
I spoke about her in public once, I got stared at a lot more than usual my family shunned me for it and my friends considered it a taboo, an invitation, a manifestation of doom in their very existence, because humanity is so addicted to life and all its pain that they’d rather ignore that death exists then blame her for taking their loved ones as if death and life aren’t two sides of the same painful coin, as if only death brought about pain and grief. https://www.instagram.com/p/CTVncSwNv8o/?utm_medium=copy_link
When I welcomed her in my existence very many years back, she was sad and bitter, that humanity didn’t see her as freedom, that they only chose to see the negatives about her as if she didn’t end the suffering of the old, the suffering of the willing, that’s all she ever wanted to do, humanity was more scared of the finality she provided than the pain she helped end for them
When she came to me, I hadn’t called her, I hadn’t said I wanted to die, timeless times I’d said I wanted to die and she never showed, this time I only said I want to end all pain and she appeared suddenly as if to grant my wish and even though she didn’t take me with her on the countless occasions that I asked, she was there, she was always there, offering the final solution and even though we both knew was a heavy solution, life had offered up far worse than death had.
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