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I'm hiding....
Is this where I want to be? Maybe. Maybe I don't want you to find me and I don't want you to see me. I'm hiding. And it isn't necessarily a bad thing. I'm listening to the broken clock, watching the second hand move slowly past the 12 midnight mark. I'm listening to that horrible ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.... Heartbeat...skip....heartbeat...skip...heartbeat...tick.heartbeat....skip....stop....stop....hearbeat.
I was hoping my heart would stop after those two whole minutes my heart never beat. I wanted to feel Death's grasp. I wanted to feel that scythe at my side, poking me, scratching me, stabbing me to tell me I was dead. I wanted Death to literally reach into my chest and pull out the dead organ to know that my only means of living was now done working. Done doing its horrid job of keeping me alive. I wanted to feel that painful darkness pull me in so deep that even blinking would be so impossible.
I wanted everything that darkness provided. No emotions. No taunts. No laughing. No crying. No screaming. I wanted it all. I wanted the light to simply go out and see nothing but darkness and feel the mortician's hands reaching for that knife to slice me open to drain me of all my blood, organs, and dead tissues. I wanted to feel that cold fluid embrace me so tight that I was shivering on the outside but still dead on the inside. I wanted to see that morbid smile light up when they dressed my dead body for a funeral no one would attend. I wanted to feel that feeling of remorse just once in my life for my loss. I wanted to laugh at everyone's fake sorrow and scream, "I TOLD YOU I WANTED TO DIE!!! I TOLD YOU!" I wanted to laugh so hard at their FAKE frowns and laugh at their loss. I was never a plus in their life, and they knew it. Damn. Did I want to wake up in that casket and laugh so hard in my mom's face and tell her she's the reason for my death. I wanted to awake and smile at my father and ask him if he was proud of my demise now. I wanted to get out of the casket, tear everything up and stare into my only friend's face and scream at her for not listening to me. Damn did I want to get out of that casket, reach for my boyfriends hand and tell him he was nothing to me and then die again. I wanted to show them all the pain they put me through. Wanted them to feel it ALL. I wanted them to see my rotting corpse and blame themselves. I wanted their remorse so bad that I could taste it....
Tick...Tick...Tick...
I was still alive. Not really. The vicodin was finally kicking in... 30 vicodin later, and my heartbeat was making real slow beats.
My fantasy is unrealistic. I could never laugh at them no matter how bad I wanted to...
tick. tick...tic...ti...t...stop.