A Letter to Life and Death

Saturday, October 29th, 2022

Dear Death and Life,

I want to let Death know that, even though I don’t know when you are coming, I hope it’s soon rather than later. Because if you don’t come for me, then I’ll go to you.

I want to let Life know that I see your beauty. I just wish I could stop seeing it in a dull gray. I notice your beauty, but through a bland and blurry lens.

The two of you work like the sun and moon. Death reminds us that nothin lasts forever, while life shows us why we should treasure the wonders of living for as long as we can.

I am a broken human in more ways than one. There have been many people who broke me down into pieces and all I’ve done is made those pieces smaller. So I couldn’t be built back up against because I can’t see a reason as to why I should.

If the very purpose of my existence hasn’t been fulfilled yet, then I guess it never will be. I’ve given up on trying to find out what I am supposed to be. Maybe I’m not supposed to be anything. That we are only lying to ourselves that we’re supposed to be something so we don’t feel useless. So we can feel accomplished as we’re taking our last breath once we’ve reach our the end of our lifespan.

I am loved by many but never know how to accept such selflessness. For years all I can think about is why? Why would someone take the time out of their day to see me smile? I try to understand what love is just to give up on the idea in the end.

I beg of you to take my soul away from this body with meaningless value. Take me away from here. Take me away from this world. This world that only sees me as a creature of darkness.

I have given up on trying to create my own path, but I have ventured out too far from the path that was given to me. Now I am traveling in the barren wasteland inside that is my own head.

These emotions feel as if they are a burden, a deception, a problem; with my heart trapped in a cage with them. Ignoring them seemed easy at first. But the pain that comes with it is unbearable. It’s as if my emotions are going back and forth between healing my heart just to beat it down again.

From the age of fifteen to now I've tried self-harm so I won’t focus on myself, but I’ve been doing it for so long that I barely feel it anymore. I mean it's not like I'm giving myself many options.

It's funny how I've never truly asked anyone for a shoulder, hand, a pair of ears, or for guidance and yet I have already given up trying. I guess it's because the very thought of me talking about my depression and accomplishments pisses me off. Just the very thought about me manipulating others into feeling sorry for me.

Death is the ugly truth of reality. Life is the beautiful lie of reality.

Goodbye Life. Hello Death.

Sincerely,

Omega.

Word Count: 539