I never imagined myself with one of the incurable disease...Things like cancer always happen to some other poor soul. And we all sit and talk and pretend to care... "Oh... How horrible... What did the doctor say... How long... Just so sad...poor, poor, thing". "Thing"... like now that they're dying they are somehow less human, not worth anything but petty small talk to inflate our own self worth and ego. That's what most of us do, living, if you can call what we do living, with blinders strapped tight to our heads so we can ignore as much of each other as possible. Interacting only to satisfy our base carnal desires... stripping each others clothes, dignity, souls... stripping everything from one another but leaving the blinders on. No one wants to watch the ugly act we've turned making love into. It's not even ****... just empty bodies grinding in filth stained beds for cheap ******* trying to fill the painful moments before we fall asleep.
And we have the nerve to call the lucky ******s dying, "Things". Everyone can look in the mirror but no one is willing to see their actual reflection.
What abunch of chumps.
Today, I became a "Thing"... No I didn't go to the doctor... I woke up and just knew. I felt it crawl up from the depth of my very being and could see my reflection before I even made it to the bathroom mirror. ****,... it hurt, hurt bad... the kind of hurt you know, just know, is gonna stick there with you to the bitter end. It came on quick, it came out of nowhere... A little thumbnail size scratch right under my hearts skin. It happened maybe a week ago, I couldn't tell you exactly when or even how it happened. It became infected before I could stop it, although looking back.. at my life before... why would I. Dying like this... I never would have dared dream to be so lucky... Good god it felt good. It even made my **** hard, it made it seep without even being touched, a ******* without the shame or guilt or lust... I woke up today and knew, just knew, I was dying of love. Dying for love. Dying just to love her with my last breath... did she love me? Would she? Could she? It didn't matter... I was going to die loving her either way, scrapping and stealing as much pain from her heart as I could on my way out, dragging every monster and demon and devil I could find in her burdened and black soul with me as I marched toward death. If there was every I more beautiful way to die I wouldn't want it. No, this was my exit to Eden, the only way for me to die. Dying here in her eternal hell... Yea, it hurt... but it hurt so bad that it just felt right, that it made sense. I was going to die and that was the best news of my life... I laughed, a good hard laugh, the kind of laugh you hear echoing in the halls of a mad house, insane asylum, a loony-bin if you will. God forgive me, all the hurt and pain... I needed it, I needed to see and feel it all. I needed to bathe in it, wallow in it, and swallow it all. It was sweet and glorious, sticky and hot, dark and bitter... so much beautiful pain... it felt incredible. Still, I laughed tears as it hurt just to breathe. I couldn't help but smile, I was dying and dying the best way possible, my Eden and last breath at the end of her fingers, the end of her ocean, the bottom of her fallen heart.. and I was happy just to be there.