The other day,
Someone asked me about something that led to words describing my being.
I heard myself udder a loss of life and quickly I wandered into a desire to die.
I love you so dearly and I’ve seen the ceremonies where everyone shares all the memories.
I want to shiver and yet I frown. There are people I never want to let down.
Yet I wonder, to honor me, if I have to let pass all those lovelies – and let the people be.

Then I remembered all of the times that would be described should I die.
I remember the hate and the love and the cries.

I thought again what life would be like to die.

For me it was nothing. Honestly a chore for all of the others with which they’d have to endure. Suddenly dying was easy for me – it became the pain others would see.

I want to pursue an emptied heart so no more people are displaced and dark. Yet then i realize it’s only me, dead inside i wish you could see

I want to belabor; i wanted to feel. I wanted to be better, but still this is real. There’s nothing i may do to make this relax, except take the time to confront my past.

Perhaps I’ll get over this or maybe never still. Regardless, the end of this road is real.

Today or tomorrow – what difference is it? To see all those people at the end of my existence. It’s not about me any longer. There is no me and that makes me grow stronger.

Rather than any purpose, the longer I go on, the more others need me and I have no purpose beyond growing strong.

Strong enough to face this fate. Strong enough to be what hasn’t been for me.

Dead too early. I know the story. I can only hope i meet their expectations of others.

And live until I’m accepted to die – so that they can feel comfortable that I’ve lived a full life.