Topic: Death
I walk to the school. I gaze at the world around me, and can’t understand the the river of lifeless souls silently passing me by. I try to find my place inside their grayness, I dive deeper into the river, but I don’t find a cure for my illness:
My tortures are all the same. That Alien in my mind is tortures me again and again: the only feeling I recently have is the will to escape, but alas I’m too weak now. My body burns, as my silent torturer hits me, but I realize that the most painful scars are the ones that I bare till I have been born.
I wish that my silent torturer would be dead. The chains are getting tighter, even my flesh starts to burn. I scream, but no one hears, as they are concerned by the grayness of the world surrounding. I see them passing by; their river is silent: they aren’t supposed to show that they have feelings, because “feelings make you weak”.
And then, when I think that I don’t have the strength to escape, even the power to breath, I realize, that there was no way to run away, as the torturer standing in front of me is myself, and the old well known scars tearing my mind apart are the ghosts of my education, my errands and even my well constructed life.
I wish again that my torturer would be dead. Nothing changes. Then I wish that I’d be dead. My torturer disappears, and the one thing I see is my anguished body, lying on the street. For a moment I think that no one even notices my body on the ground, then someone knees down, and I see a tear falling down on her face. As she touches my body rotten in soul, one last desperate cry echos in my head:
“You have tortured yourself even in death, ’cause she is the one you have been waiting for.”