My own death.
For the longest time, I’ve grieved.
I’ve grieved and not known why. I felt as if someone so close and dear to me had passed but in the real world - no one had.
But it was me. I’ve murdered myself with the words of others, with loneliness.
Thoughts have surged through my mind of how many times I could have disappeared from this life. No harm being done just how the world could rip me out at any moment.
Because this world doesn’t deserve her. The people in this world didn’t deserve the love, hope, tenderness, empathy, strength, and power she was worth.
The people that the little girl I once was are not the same. People change.
I also grieve those who used to be and are now floating bodies who hurt. Aren’t we all just a little dead inside compared to our young selves?
Turns out we’re truly dying with every moment, with every second that goes by.
But, nothing’s ever really dead if you look at it right.
Maybe that’s the journey I need to track now. Time doesn’t always have to be linear.
I asked to be here and I’ll let keep being the human I was made to be.
Til death finds me.