The Other Side of the Rising Sun

decision

Would you rather know exactly when you were going to die? Know the second your heart would stop beating and your eyes would close for the last time, never to be reopened. Know that you could say good bye before you went. Know that you could assure your close friends and family that you loved them.

Or would you rather go unexpectedly? One minute you're talking on the phone with your coworker and the next, out of no where, a car comes and slams into you. Your phone left lying with the shattered glass from the windshield you just flew out of.

The world has a funny way of taking people. Death is unforgiving, it has no mercy. It takes the most innocent and well-liked victims. You're with them and then they're gone. Their heart stops beating. No matter how much you beg and bargain, they aren't going to come back.

My parents and brother didn't get a say. They were taken like many others. I had the choice of whether I wanted to know the exact second or let nature take its course and I think that's no fair.

As much as I loved Vikk, our relationship was falling to pieces. It was my fault. I'm always screaming and crying or never wanting to attempt a conversation because it frustrates me that I can't hear him. I knew I was being selfish. I made every day about me and Vikk was doing his best to help, but some days I'd walk into the living room of my house and see him hugging his knees. Tears would be freely falling down his face. Guilt flooded my body.

I'd walk over and wrap my arms around his small frame, rubbing circles on his back and constantly apologizing. His YouTube was on hold because of me. He left the Sidemen in England because of me. He left his family because of me. It was clear to see: I was ruining his life.

Every night since I got home, I thought about taking my life. At the moment, Vikk was the only thing I had to live for and even then, I was losing him.

Losing. Something that was happening a lot lately. It wasn't fair, but life is like that sometimes. This whole shit of an accident had impacted my life so horribly I didn't even want to live it anymore. I was so consumed with grief. It was torture. I could picture my mom sitting me down and telling me that it would be okay. Her hand would be on my knee and then she'd get up and leave. Moments later she'd return with a cup of hot chocolate. Except she was gone and that wasn't going to happen. It wasn't going to be okay. I found myself crying silently, hoping Vikk wouldn't hear it from a few rooms over.

Today, as I turned off the light and crawled into the old bed of my brother's, I made my decision. I decided that I want to know the exact second I will leave this world. I grabbed a pen and paper from off my brother's desk and began to write, letting the tears drop onto the page and smudge the black ink.