A life for two

October 23, 2008
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She had ghost eyes. Eyes of a ghost. The casket that held her body was too small and the walls made her pale body overlap. Her body still looked strong even from the disturbing stillness. But her eyes had turned gray. The hope that had always been distilled deep in her eyes, filling her eyes with vanity and strength had escaped her body as well as her soul. The stale smell of the room crept upon my nose and tickled my senses, the aura of death stood in my presence.

She was never a bad girl. Lost, confused, mislead, troubled. But her intentions had never been cruel and her heart had always stayed true. Her lifeless eyes stared straight into mine, the glow of innocence that shined around her body, in the cheap, beat up casket showed no evil. With nothing to give or say, I walked out of the lonely funeral room and left the few people that had actually put the effort into visiting an old friend, a daughter, or maybe even an acquaintance. This was not a funeral of a monster, instead a neglected human.

“Only years ago, I had feelings, I was humane but hurt and sad but happy. I observed, I watched, I waited, I approached, I fell, I died, and now I’m here. Yet I’m in the same place. I accomplish and exceed more yet at the same time fail and fall all the same and maybe even more.

Where have my morals gone? Where have my intelligence and conservative ways ran away to?

Ah, there we go. I looked and searched and rediscovered you. But you’re under spider webs and weeds and dust. I apologize for interfering with fate and defying clones however I refuse to be that way. The gift of death within a soul has only taught me wisdom but taken away the facts. Unattainable bliss.

And only from this, I have to admit, that the thought of ending my life has crossed my mind from the decades that I have lived, hundreds of times. My decision will help the world prosper for my place has no more and only will cause pain.

I leave with no regret; my departure is with grace, for I see where a world has no place for a black sheep that only causes harm.”

The crumbled piece of paper scarred in my head forever of the last words, the last thoughts of a soul that had abandoned this world, only shared with one person, who had not even thought for an extra second about the statement.

Yet can you blame all of these people for committing suicide and ending their lives so quickly? The appreciation, the lack of it as most would say, that every person gives their loved ones is a bit part to due. In the adolescent years, the earlier years, memories of my parents’ disappointed faces silently scolding me comes to mind, “Can’t we have the old A back please?” They would say, but in reality they mean, “Can’t we have the old A that we didn’t really like but put up with anyway?” I shut my emotions off, letting my life ride on reactions, destructive yet simpler, depression does that to you.
I had always lived without regrets, but I know if I could go back, I would change it all. She would know she was loved; I would give anything to bring her back, just for him.

After that day, he was never the same. He knew only hate; his smiles were followed with sighs. That day, when she had lost all of the breaths, he lost them too.

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