The ground is spinning beneath my feet.

The wind is roaring in my ears.

I hear voices, but they seem distant.

Their words are beyond my reach.

My hand feels as if it is being ripped apart, for the endless Hell-hole upon it, steadily grows larger.

Events from my life play over, and over inside my mind.

It was pointless.

Meaningless.

A life like mine, holds no value, when you are awaiting a cruel fate.

And as I think to myself, through the black winds, I see faces.

Worried faces.

Scared Faces.

They're crying.

Crying for me.

And then I realize, people actually care about my worthless life.

I wish I didn't have to die so soon.

I wish it wasn't my time.

I wish I could have made more of my short life.

I've failed my grandfather.

I've failed my father.

I've failed myself.

And for the first time, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid to die.

I cry out, as the winds become stronger, the hole becomes bigger, and the pain becomes unbearable.

The faces of the people who care about me, flash through my mind.

And I realize, I am crying.

Crying for the first time.

I wish I could have told them, told them all, that they made my worthless life worthwhile.