They say that death is quiet. That it comes so fast and sudden that it is a surprise to the world. Because the world keeps going, as if it never happened.

I disagree. I have never known a silent death in my life. For me, death is so loud, that it deafens me. Until all I hear is ringing and muffled sounds. Like a bomb just went off, and in a way, I guess it had. The world moves to a slow motion until it is measured by nothing but a heart beat, and even that will stop eventually. Until your breath gives out and your knees crumple before you. "Its beautiful" they say, "the way that life and death entwines in an eternal dance." Yes. This is beautiful, me lying here beside you as you struggle for life, fighting to keep your heart beating. I watch as fear consumes you, you don't want to die, that much is plain to see, because you think your too young. Well let me inform you of something. You will ALWAYS be too young. It will never be enough because you don't know what happens next. For some it is a relief, they hope that this is it, the end of the line. That they cease to exist. Those are the ones who live life they way the want to. Or their are those of you who dread and fear it. Believing that God is waiting on the other side. Those are the ones who live their lives doing good, trying to make it to heaven. And then their are those of you who push it aside. Who hide from the fact that one day your hear, then gone the next. You are the ones who live in mediocre boredom forever chained down by your fear, as you waste away inside of these four paper walls, in front of the screen of some form.

I am here to remind you that I exist. I am death. I am release to some and horror to others. And I am here to tell you that your time is fast approaching. I may be at your doorstep right now, or I may be waiting on the sidelines for years to come. But I am here. And one day you will find me beside you, embracing you as you fight to keep your fire burning. You may evade me once or twice but you will see me one day. And I shall ask you this, have you lived as you wanted to live? Or have you squandered away your days? Will you be remembered? And if so how? Will people laugh and say "you won't be missed" or will they wail and pull at their hair, gnashing their teeth as they cry for their loss? Are you loved or hated?  if you are loved, you shall not be forgotten, and that is the immortality you are all seeking, just as my immortality is here, among the words I write. Who knows? By the time your reading this, maybe I have passed to. Because even death is not immortal.