Hi guys! So, want to know a little fact about me? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. I think I really like angst-y writing. Don't know why. I have journals and journals full of poetry-like writing, sort of like my fic Drowning. I always thought…I don't know…like it was too depressing to write out. But…I kind of like it. So, here I am. I've decided to see if angst writing is a style I want to go for, or if it's just a helpless flirtation. So, here we are. This was inspired by Sara Shepard's The Lying Game. There's a chapter in that book where the girl who was murdered describes her death, and I thought I'd give something like that a try, just as an experiment. If you like it, I might do more with this. If you don't, I'll just delete it and we can all pretend this never happened. I really, really liked writing Drowning, so this is kind of like that. I tried with This Isn't Happening, but that became too sad and not angst-y enough, so I just deleted it. Again, tell me if you think this is any good, or if you think I'm any good at this type of writing, because I really want to give it a whirl. Thanks. Okay, here we go…
"I had a life anyone would kill for. Then someone did. The worst part about being dead is that there's nothing left to live for. No more kisses. No more gossip. It's enough to kill a girl all over again..." – Sara Shepard, The Lying Game
Suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
You realize something.
You realize that it's not worth it to fight any longer.
You've never been one for giving up,
And always been one for fighting 'til the end…
But now…
It seems like this is the end.
And…
Since you're at the end…
What's there left to fight for?
What happens when you reach the end?
Are you just supposed to drop everything, because you've reached it?
Because you've gotten to the point
You always said you'd fight 'til?
What's the point in that?
What's the point in any of this?
Your whole body hurts.
Your lungs are starting to burn for air.
Your head feels dizzy, dizzier, and dizziest.
Your vision is spotty and dulled.
You want to scream,
You want to cry,
You want to fight.
Your throat screams, trying to breathe,
But you can't. Your airway can't expand.
You can't breathe.
You can't breathe.
You try to think,
But the only thing you can think of…
Is 'They're killing me, they're killing me'.
And you don't even know who 'they' are.
That's not fair.
Life's not fair.
Death's not fair.
Now you loose the feeling in your fingers, your toes…
You realize something else now.
Suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
You realize something else.
The pain.
Goes.
Away.
When you give up, that is.
The pain.
Gets.
Worse.
When you keep fighting, that is.
You know you can't keep fighting now.
You know it's no use.
Because they're killing you.
You know those thoughts are true now.
You've never been one to give up,
And, most of the time,
You shouldn't give up!
But, now…
They're killing you.
Literally.
And then…
Suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
Your lungs stop burning.
Your head isn't so dizzy.
Your vision goes black and spotty.
And your whole body stops hurting.
You no longer want to scream.
You no longer want to cry.
You're above that now.
Because suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
You realize one last thing.
Sometimes,
You have to know when to stop fighting,
And to just be.
Something sharp pulls into your neck again.
Your head jerks back again.
You can't breathe again.
You can barely make out the sharp twang of the knife at your throat
As your eyes are forced closed again.
But this time
You aren't as afraid.
Sure, you're still paralyzed with fear and all,
But it isn't as bad now.
That white-hot, blazing fear you felt when the knife first connected with your throat…
It's dulled down now.
Because…
Now you know.
You know its inevitable now.
You wish.
You wish you knew who they were,
And you wish you knew why.
Why you.
You wish you could have said goodbye,
To all those people that you loved.
You wish you would have been more careful.
But now, a different feeling comes over you…
As your heart slows down,
As your lungs surrender.
You think about relief.
And happiness.
And peace.
And love.
And now,
I – you, I mean.
Have reached
The end.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
You never would have thought
That so many people
Would show up to your funeral.
You used to fantasize about your funeral.
But, that was all in good fun, you think.
That was before
You actually had a funeral.
You would fantasize about how sad the mourners would be…
But you never would have thought…
They would be…
This sad.
You want to tell them that you're sorry.
You want to tell him that you're sorry.
But there was really
Nothing
You could have done.
Because
You fought
'Til the end.
You wish
They could see you
The way you can see them
And always be with them.
You wish he could see you.
You wish you could talk with him,
Sit with him,
Sing with him.
You wonder
How they are.
How he is.
Suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
You gasp.
You gasp because
You saw
The look
On his face.
Now you just want to hold him
And hug him
And kiss him
And tell him
That it will be okay.
But you have the strangest feeling…
That he won't believe you.
You see their faces…
All eleven of them…
And you want to cry.
Simply because
They are crying.
All eleven of them.
'I'm sorry!' you want to yell to them. 'It wasn't my fault!'
But you know
They won't hear you.
You think back to that day,
As you do often.
You think about what happened.
You ask yourself
If it was the right time to stop fighting…
But you can't bring yourself
To think that you should have kept fighting…
Even when
They are crying.
All eleven of them.
People dressed in black
Speak about your life.
You watch
And you listen.
It's sad, but…
You watch.
And you listen
Anyway.
Your first reaction
Is to tell them not to be so sad.
You let a good life, you want to say.
But you know
They can't hear you.
Even if
You can
Hear them
And even when
You can
See them.
All eleven of them,
Crying.
Your body is buried,
And you feel a little bit sad.
But not really
Because
You're above that now.
Then, they leave.
All ten of them.
Yup, that's right.
Ten.
One does not leave.
One stays.
Because…
He can't bring himself to leave.
He can't bring himself to leave you.
You sit down next to him
Even though he can't see you.
You put your arms around him,
Even though he can't feel you.
You whisper in his ear:
"It'll be okay, Finn."
Even though he can't hear you.
And then,
Suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
He gets up
And leaves.
And…
That is when…
You break down
And cry.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Okay, you really don't know what the heck you're doing here.
You start to think that you're becoming kid of a stalker.
But you push those thoughts aside…
And just
Watch
And
Listen.
You see
A family.
A new family now.
Brothers.
There's a tree in the corner
And boxes
And boxes
And boxes
Of ornaments.
The new brothers look at each other,
Shrug,
And pick up an ornament.
They do this repeatedly.
For hours
And hours
And hours.
You figure that watching paint dry could be more entertaining…
But you can't
Bring yourself
To leave.
And then…
Suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
You realize something.
Seeing them…
Seeing him smile
Makes you smile too.
But then you figure that you should probably be on your way now.
You look at him
And look up to the sky.
You wish you could stay,
But you know its inevitable now.
You turn to leave…
But something stops you.
You shake your head,
You refuse to cry…
To cry over your death any longer…
You refuse.
You clench your fist
And you refuse.
You refuse the sadness
You refuse the pain.
You think.
You think about
Relief
And happiness
And peace
And love.
Love.
But then…
Suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
He looks at you
As if he can see you.
He grabs your hand
As if he can feel you.
He whispers to you
As if he can hear you.
"Merry Christmas, Rachel."
You refuse
To cry.
You don't respond,
Because you know he can't hear you.
But then…
Suddenly,
Ever so suddenly,
You whisper:
"Merry Christmas, Finn."
And now, you know.
You know the truth
That there is no end
To love.