I’ve never been scared of dying.
Honestly… it feels almost like an old friend in my mind
a quiet thought I visit sometimes.
If I imagine what would happen if I did,
probably…
my dad would drink too much,
trying to wash away the guilt and the pain of losing me.
Maybe my sister and brother wouldn’t believe I’m gone,
and swear they could still hear my voice.
Maybe my dog would wander in and out of my room,
confused—
funny, really,
considering how often we slept curled up together.
My presence would linger in the small bedroom of mine,
caught in the fabric of my sheets.
My mom would probably go through the five stages of grief,
because I was obviously her most beloved.
Half of her world would fade with me.
My friends would be shocked—maybe even in denial,
because just yesterday,
I was in my rented room,
still bedrotting,
still watching some obscure old movie.
But deep down,
I know I AM scared.
Because if I asked them—
any of them—
they’d beg me to stay
just a little longer.
Dec 3, 2025
Dec 3, 2025 at 9:28 AM UTC
I’ve never been scared of dying.
Honestly… it feels almost like an old friend in my mind
a quiet thought I visit sometimes.
If I imagine what would happen if I did,
probably…
my dad would drink too much,
trying to wash away the guilt and the pain of losing me.
Maybe my sister and brother wouldn’t believe I’m gone,
and swear they could still hear my voice.
Maybe my dog would wander in and out of my room,
confused—
funny, really,
considering how often we slept curled up together.
My presence would linger in the small bedroom of mine,
caught in the fabric of my sheets.
My mom would probably go through the five stages of grief,
because I was obviously her most beloved.
Half of her world would fade with me.
My friends would be shocked—maybe even in denial,
because just yesterday,
I was in my rented room,
still bedrotting,
still watching some obscure old movie.
But deep down,
I know I AM scared.
Because if I asked them—
any of them—
they’d beg me to stay
just a little longer.
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