Death

It’s the worst feeling. The world is spinning so fast and nothing will stop it for you to catch your breath. You have a familiar glaze, wet cheeks and scars with stories behind them waiting for somebody to notice your silent scream: “I am not ok”. At that moment death appears like an old friend.

           

Death is something so beautifully terrifying, so horribly fascinating. When madness takes over, death takes your hand and blows away the screams of the ones who don’t own a shadow.  It hugs your every curve and kisses your scars. It promises you happiness, eternal joy, no stress, no worries, no more tears… It promises you that you’ll never feel so alone in a crowded room, that claustrophobic feeling in a wide space will disappear, that fear towards the mirror will vanish. Those terrifying voices will turn into lullabies and at sleepless nights it will be your company. All of this I know for a fact, for it has held my hand and invited me to dance many times, but has slowly let me fall back and leaves me dancing alone to a silent melody.

           

Now I’m completely fine or at least that’s what I think, because the memory of deaths warm hugs still makes me shiver with curiosity. Before I was sure of my love for Gods most precious gift he has given me, I was completely destroyed and I didn’t want to be that way, but my diseases would pull me back every time I would try to fly. I wanted people to stop telling me I was pretty, nice, amazing or that I was as good as the rest of them. I wasn’t, and I honestly never will be because there will always be someone better out there. Nothing can change how worthless I felt, no matter how much I try to convince myself that I wasn’t. I’ve watched my friends leave my life. The worst part being that I felt like I deserved it. Every night, I watched the stars draw on the peaceful dark sky those wonderful and horrible memories, having flashbacks of what I’ve said and done. Asking myself what did I do to deserve that I treated myself as horribly as I do and why did I called death my savior. It feels so good yet it hurts so badly all at once. I heard the echoes of the people that meant so much to me say how much they loved me and my desperate sobs screaming at them to stop lying in response. Silly me. They loved me, they truly did, I just never loved myself.

           

I broke my chains with death. Nowadays I’m only terrified of the fact that one day I might miss its affections and warm kisses.  

But I’ll stay positive because like me, there are many more who had been deaths dance partner and have survived. All people that have passed through that, including me are all broken, damaged and surely not quite fixed yet. A lot of us have gone through hell, but you know what? We came back and stronger. We are warriors, and warriors fight.