Lonesomevalley (lonesomevalley) wrote in fakediaries,
Lonesomevalley
lonesomevalley
fakediaries

Death

I scream, but no one hears. I fight, but my arms don't move. Water swirls between my fingers, slipping between them like life itself. I can't grab it, I can't hold it, it flows on without me. I see my own blood before me. The blackness of the bayou pollutes it, poisoning my blood, washing away that which is me and filling it with darkness. There's nothing I can do. I've paralyzed myself. I feel the rushing in my head, the hole filling up. I try to breath, but only water pours in. Why do I struggle? This is what I wanted. Death was warm and inviting compared to the life I'm leaving. Right until he stared me straight in the eye.

I'd faced him a thousand times before, always more than willing to throw my life away for a thousand reasons. For the money, for the power, for honor, for her. I looked stone cold killers in the eye and waited for them to do what they do best. Some tried, some didn't. All failed. It was easy. Death became a great ally and dear friend. I fed him and he let me be. But now it was actually happening. His grasp no longer open, but absolute. I couldn't fight him. He had me, at last. A trophy for eternity. God, was this what I sent them all to? I'm sorry. Your angel does his job well. As did his servant.

I want to apologize to everyone I've wronged. I want to shout out my love for everyone I still care for. I want the world to hear my regrets. I want to beg, command, whimper, anything to anyone who will listen to get me out of this. If it's real, take me now. I know everything will fade out soon. I'll cease to feel. I'll cease to be. The water that fills me and weighs me down will disappear and death, like the cold, will enter and empty me out. I'll be emptied of every regret, every longing, every joy and all pain. I'll never be able to have another. Was the joy worth the pain? Was the pain so bad it was worth dying for?

I know it's all normal. The part of the brain that wants to keep itself alive. The survival instinct. I've lived on it most of my life. It pushed me, gave me strength, gave me life. Now I've thrown it all away. Only now, in the last moments, do I think of others, of the forgiveness I need and the love I craved. Never did I remember anyone when I was fighting for myself, or when I was fighting them, or when I pulled the trigger seconds ago. Would they feel it? Would those who I wished evil for feel the burning in their heads? Would those I missed feel the same void in their hearts? Had I only caused more harm to life in my attempt to leave it behind, leave it alone as it had done to me? I'll never know. I'll never have the chance to fix any of it. Death teaches you the best way to live in its final moments, when it's too late.
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