I feel it.

It's tiptoeing,
One toe at a time.

Closer to me, still.

It doesn't want to hurt me,
But it feels like it does.

He says I'll be ok,
I don't believe it.
And I won't till he
Puts his gun away.

He says it's for protection.
"I'll be ok," I say.
But in his hand it remains.

He grows nearer...

Gun still in hand.

I ask him to stop.
"Don't come closer," I plead.

He doesn't understand.

He doesn't realize I am afraid.

I shutter,

He freezes,

For only a moment.

He gets it.

He takes advantage.

He walks flat foot now.
His tempo improves from 60 to 120...

I scurry to the corner.

He is aroused,
Tempo rising.

He is a step from reaching my corner,
He pauses.

He whispers.
But I can't hear him.

I can't hear anything but my heartbeat.
It quickens, and grows louder,
Heart, now my head.

Half step back, full step foreword.

Six inches away.

He is testing me,
So I close my eyes.

He fills my corner,
He stops.

He is done...
Or is he.

It's still.
It's quiet.

He moves an inch out of place,
My eyes still shut.

I know he holds it up now.
Now to my head.

Shhh...
"You won't feel a thing."

He places his finger on the trigger...
and waits.

He won't pull it.
I have to do that myself.

I dare not move,
For a whole 30 seconds.

I grab the gun, in the same position,
And pull the trigger.

I open my eyes.
He is gone.
I still feel him.

 He wants me.
He is watching me.

His brother lives me and won't let him near me... not now.

He was in my corner before his brother took it over.

He was my protection.

But he failed as well.
It's not like he didn't try.
He really did.

His brother is stronger though.

He had come back to shoot me again...

He is allowed tonight...
I ask him too.

I'm still afraid, yes.
But his brother will be back in the morning, when I wake...

Or so he says...

Or...

Maybe darkness and I are just meant to be.

I'm not sure where I'm going.
I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go.
I know where people want me to go,
But that's not where I want to go.
I don't know where I want to go
But it's not where they want me to.

I'm not sure why,
But I don't want to do much these days.
I've lost all motivation.
I need to finish school.
I want to drop out.
And I hate that about me.

I want out of this town.
This place is not my home.
I want to go home.
I want the four seasons.
I want to feel cold.
I hate it here.

I need to get a job
One that pays me enough to get by,
For now.
I need to save my money
Use only what I need to
Then, when I have enough,

I need to get out.
I need my own place.
Or maybe a place with a friend.
A place where
 I won't be hounded by my parents
To get my *** in gear.

I need the motivation
To do what needs to get done.
The best I have right now,
That would be,
The fact that it's too late
To get these things done.

I don't know where I am.
I don't want to do anything about it either.
I want to run away.
I need cash, and a job.
I need to move on from here.
I need a kick in the ***.

I seem to be lost.

Quietly, quickly, inconspicuously, daringly, cautiously, knowingly, doubtingly, forcefully, confusedly, consciously, uncontrollably, thoughtfully, dumbly, numerously, abusively, blatantly, spontaneously, thinking of the blank, black, silence that engulfs my being every nocturnal moment I remain frozen in the banks of reality waiting for the hypothetical trigger of the hypothetical gun to be ripped behind its epicenter to allow me the will to be woken from a death that had been disrupted by a millimeter of flame from a centimeter of a stars everlasting life within a never lasting cycle of momentary aliveness in a stillness that ceases to be as such.

They say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes in only a matter of seconds.

If that is true,
what if this is just our lives flashing before us?
What if we are just seeing this all happen again... as a memory?

Puritans believe in predestination...
I believe they know that happens and just think they are part of the flashback.

If that is true, can someone tell me why and/or how I am dying right now?

I don't want to die.
I know I have said it, thousands of times, that I'd rather die or be dead, but that isn't true.
I have said I want to **** myself before too.
To tell you the truth, I don't have the ***** to do it.
I can't **** myself.
I have had a knife in my hand trying to stab myself, but I got scared and put it away.

I found a gun once too... held it up to my head... put my finger on the trigger... dropped it.

I tried hanging myself too... that also ended in me not following through.

I can't do it... I won't do it.