Death… death is unavoidable. It’s a fact of life. Some choose to hide from the topic, others choose to be scared of it. But me? I’m not scared of it. I think about it frequently…
Being who I am, my life feels like a tightrope, one where there is no net below to catch me if I fall. That if I did fall, everything would be over, and that’s that. And if I were to fall, there would be no “YOU HAVE 5 DAYS/HOURS/MINUTES TO LIVE. MAKE IT WORTH WHILE” Mega phone guy telling me that. I’d have maybe 5 seconds and it would be over. That’s how life is. Car crashes, cancer, disease, the end, everything. It just ends.
It’s like in a movie, when it’s so intense, you are so engrossed, then it’s suddenly over… everything is done. The lights come up and you’re still sitting there like, what? You don’t get a choice; you don’t choose your life, unless that is… you choose to end it early.
You know that feeling when you tip too far back in a chair and it feels like your heart drops out of your body? I wonder if that’s how life ends… you’re lying there, or sitting there, or standing there, and suddenly you get that feeling and your life is over. As fast as that.
There are so many ways you can die. A terrible disease, a car accident, malnourishment, old age, falling, and suicide. There are more than that, but that’s too much to write down. Sometimes people die slowly, but is that really better? You never get a chance to say goodbye to your loved ones. Unless you do every day. But that’s not the final goodbye.
The final good bye is them burying you in the cemetery with everyone else they love. But what about the tears streaming down their faces, the swollen eyes days after, months after; it’s the longing in their hearts. But some people can never say goodbye. Goodbye has to be the hardest word to say. Because no one wants to let go. Letting go can be leaving a part of your childhood behind. Or a part of your future.
Suicide is a different story all together. You can say goodbye, without anyone knowing your saying goodbye. But then they think about those last moments over and over again. What was the last thing I said? Did I offend them in some way to push it? Was it my fault? Could I have stopped it? Then they come to the conclusion, it’s all my fault. And that haunts them forever. Sometimes suicides can get national reports. Even some deaths can be, suicides or not.
Death can be a long discussion. And a hard one, especially if you know someone who has currently died. And I know a few who have. I know sometimes you think, how am I supposed to get over this? How do I move on?
And the most common one of all, “Why him/her?” or “It’s my fault.” “Did I say I love them?”
Sometimes you just have to move on… it isn’t easy, and it will take time. Just remember, it’s ok to cry.
October 15th, 2012 | Tags: Accident, Cancer, Death, depression, Life, Movie, Old age, Pain, Suicide, Tightrope
Monologues, Stories | 1 Comment »
It was a dark alley, there were no lights, and she was walking down it alone. Down the middle no less, she should have known better, but her mind was on other things. Better more intense things… so she didn’t notice when a shadow crouched up behind her until it was too late. She knew the smell of the chloroform before it touched her mouth.
The more intense things going through her mind was the feeling of his hand on her face, their bodies pressed tightly together, evaporating all space between them. Of his lips against hers, moist and soft. She could still feel his touch… still taste his lips. She was dizzy with love. She forgot about what she had to be scared of. She forgot that people were after her, that it wasn’t safe to be out alone at night.
Ruby was always cocky like that, she thought she could take anyone… but you can’t do much to fight chloroform. But she did get a good kick in.
She woke up in a dark room, light was coming from somewhere above, but she couldn’t figure out where. She was tied down, and there was water dripping on her face. She couldn’t move from the water. It was driving her nuts. She knew this was only the beginning, so she began to put up walls around her emotions. Using him as a force field. It worked. She forgot about the water and everything, and sensations came back, along with feelings. When someone actually touched her face she flinched from her little fantasy. When she opened her eyes she thought she was dreaming. It was him, Jordon, stroking her face. She tried to move, but the restraints were still there and so was the water.
She looked into his eyes, and it was like she could see into his soul. But right now it wasn’t happy. There was pain in his deep green eyes. They were an odd colour, like a forest, mossy green. But she knew in that moment what to do, since her hands weren’t tied down, she watched them move towards him, pulling him down on her, almost crushing her, but not.
The moment their lips touched something changed, she saw into his mind, actually saw, she saw how he was warring with himself. But over what? We’re in love. Nothing can tear that apart. The connection was suddenly cut, but it still felt like they were melting into each other, becoming one, but there was something wrong about it… his lips tasted and felt… wrong. But before she could figure it out he pulled away, and got off her.
“I’m sorry Rubes. I… had no choice. I love you.” Then she realised what his other had was holding, it was a knife. He drove the knife into her abdominal area, everything faded, the last thing she remembered was him leaning down and kissing her lips one last time.
To be continued…
October 1st, 2012 | Tags: Betrayal, Danger, Life Changing, Love, Pain
Stories | 1 Comment »
It’s like she’s a ghost, wandering these halls. Every time I think I see her, a thread of hope is
brought back. But in the next second, it’s like it was snipped… Not cleanly, because it continues to bleed and hurt like an infected wound. Do I wish I could forget her? No. Do I want the pain to end? I guess… but does that mean forgetting her?
I’m scared that if the pain goes away, that I’ll forget how much of an impact she made on my life.
I remember once, when I was little and we had to give her and Smodge a bath… My brothers and I sat out on the couch while my mom and dad wrestled with the cats. All we could hear was ‘yowling’ and whispering. Then, everything went quiet and my brothers and I looked at each other, then jumped up all racing to get there first. I was the first one to get there. My mom gave me a bundle of what looked like cloth. But it was warmer, and vibrating. I lookeddown into the bright, little, green eyes of Clarissa. She was growling. After a lot of rubbing and shushing and talking to, Clarissa’s growling turned to purring. I could usually make her purr when she was growling. All my friends and a lot of our family would call her a Demon Kitty, I just called her my baby.
Whenever I was upset or just needed someone to talk or rant to, my cats would be the ones I’d go to. Because they couldn’t judge me.
Whenever I was crying Clarissa would come and curl beside me and lick my face, trying to get me to stop crying. I could use her right now.
I swear she could understand me. That’s why I could never say she was dying. But I’d talk to her for hours. She’d purr right beside me and occasionally lick me.
It feels weird to cry and not have her beside me. It makes me feel empty. People always tell me that it’s weird to mourn an animal. But she was like a sister to me. Or a daughter. And I feel alone without her.
Everyone needs their time to mourn. And I hope I never forget her.
September 1st, 2012 | Tags: Loss, Love, Mourn, Pain
Stories | 3 Comments »
This is a Fictional monologue.
So the day it happened I had had a bad day at school, some kids had picked on me and I just felt horrible. So when I got home I was already in craps-ville. I walked in the door and knew instantly my dad was drunk. Everything was everywhere. Pictures smashed, chairs broken, fabric on the groud… It was really frightening… so I headed upstairs, prepared to be there all night… but then I heard him screaming at me from the bottom of the stairs. He was yelling at me saying I was a mistake, they never wanted me, and that I’d grown into something he couldn’t control, some demon he didn’t want. He swore at me, calling me names… then he said it was my fault moms dead. I knew it wasn’t true but that hurt. It was a low blow. So I stood there watching him as he screamed at me, smashing everything in sight. He had never been this bad.
So when I knew he wouldn’t notice if I left I ran up the stairs, locked my door and cried. I cried for hours. There
I’ll sure miss this place…
was no one I could tell, no one I could talk to, no one I trusted… So I sat alone. Then I got up, walked around my room picking things up and setting them back down. Then I picked up the bottle of Tylonal… before I knew what I was doing I had downed 10 or 11… Then I picked up a pad of paper and wrote a note to everyone I cared about. To everyone who might care. Apologizing. Telling why and what happened. Being fully honest. But then my dad came to my door, begging I come out and listen to him. So I did. I went downstairs to find he had cleaned it up a bit. He sat on the couch with his head in his hands… and he apologized, he said that he just missed mom, and something came over him, that he knows it was wrong to yell, but he felt so alone. So I took a step forward and hugged him, knowing this may very well be the last time I ever did it. Then I whispered “I love you” and turned to go upstairs. I got only about halfway up the stairs when everything went blurry, I tried speeding up but I fell over, and went down the stairs. The last thing I remember was my dad running towards my body, and me whispering, “I’m sorry” and it all went black.
And now I guess I’m dead. I’m talking to myself… but not? And who are you? Someone to judge if I get to live? How should you get that power? I don’t know if I want to live or not. I just want everyone to know that this could have been stopped. I hope you make the right choice… *turn around and start walking away then turn suddenly around*
Wait, before you choose. I love my dad more than anything in this world, no matter what he said or did… Maybe it would be easier if I never went back… maybe if I left him alone he would finally be able to move on… to be happy.
June 13th, 2012 | Tags: Accident, Death, depression, High School, Loss, Monologue
Monologues | No Comments »
