A question to live or to die. A suicidal thought among many individuals who have given up hope for their world and wish for a life where they can run free and get another chance to not mess up another life or get out of the terrible one they were in already.

That was my life. A life that was full of black holes of love. My heart got sucked into a black hole long ago when I first came to the orphanage. Now my chest feels somewhat lighter, as if a giant swan soared away from its perch of my heart. But where the swan once was, there is a hole that will never be filled. After my sisters died, there was no reason to live, but I went on anyway, seeing as I didn’t know what would come after that last breath of earthly air.

I always just had two younger sisters, Marlene and Melissa. There were never any parents to say goodnight to or to kiss our small wounds so it would heal. It was as if we were just born from thin air. Since they never kissed our hearts, they were hurting every day of our lives on the streets. Usually in the morning we all get up together no matter what patch of grass, or dirty road we were sleeping on before. But one morning, I felt a weird sensation through my whole body. I was so uncomfortable I could’ve sworn we picked our beds as a hard, stone bench. Waking up, I didn’t see my sisters. They just weren’t there. There was no trail of blood, no ripped clothing. Nothing. And that made me worry even more. It was as if they never existed. Which made ME feel as if I never existed, too. After that, I had no family. No prove that I was a real person. It felt like I wasn’t even on earth anymore. And somehow I wandered up to an orphanage a couple days after that, half dead from the cold of winter and no food, just lying there hoping to die. But someone took me inside and that’s how I got stuck here.

The orphanage is a protection from the outside world with nothing to do except go in the courtyard all day and play outside or help the staff clean and cook. Neither of those things entertain me so I stay in my one person luxury bedroom all alone every day and miss my sisters and the parents I never had.

But I would never end my life with the final cut. No, I keep living a life full of nothing. Sometimes for days I won’t do anything but stare at the wall in bed. The orphanage master slides food trays under my door full of things that do not make me happy. Sometimes I don’t eat for days, and yet I still life. Sometimes, I look outside of my window and see the children playing with sticks, wandering if I could end it with a stick, even though I don’t dare to. Can life really go on?

To be or not to be. I’m somewhere in the middle. I am not being or not being. I am simply there, with no more purpose of life. With nothing to do, nor nothing to say. Words have dried up with my tears and my heart. The tiny, shriveled thing has already stopped beating but I keep going on, as if I was immortal.

So when will my life end? Tomorrow? A month? Next year? If only it were quicker. If only I knew what was beyond life. A heaven? A hell? Nothing? But there is no such thing as nothing, except for me. I am nothing. I will always be nothing. So will I, nothing, have a different life where I am something? Where I have a family and exist for sure?

I want to find out, but I can wait. I will wait forever until I die, to become something.