Let the Demons Loose

Death

I've always had a grotesque fascination for suicides. I used to spend hours reading books on the different ways for someone to kill themselves. Now don't get me wrong, I have no desire whatsoever to kill myself. It would be too easy, and as he used to always tell me, easy is not a word to describe me.

Death. Death itself has me obsessed, the halt of a heart, the process of one's body as it slowly starts to wither away. Organs shutting down, the existence of that person's memories for no one to remember. The body starts cooling down, nothing there to keep the blood pumping. The lack of a heart. I guess that's what got me obsessed. A heart.

The image of "a perfect suicide" is intriguing. What is a perfect suicide? Do people mean a clean death? I like the blood though, such pureness comes from blood, the element that has the perfect color. Red. It was your color, you didn't wear it, it wore you. It's what you took from me, as a trophy I'm guessing, although I'll never know. What was it you used to say; "Kotik, tell me. What am I?"

I used to answer; "Mine."

But you would shake your head and scowl at me; "No kotik, WHAT am I?"

And I'd answer what you wanted to hear, that fucked up answer you made me say every, single, time.

We are but mere mortals, death is a part of life so why do people fear it so much?

A question that's always nagged me; Are we meant to take things in our own hands or let the world run its course, and let's say, "If it's meant to happen then it will.." I know my answer but I've never asked anyone what they thought.

So if anyone does read this one day, do answer.