Since you've stumbled here, I might as well write something real.
I really don't want to die. There's more to life than what meets the eye.
But Death is the solution to all my problems. Death is, ironically, what keeps me from staying in bed all day. Death is my light, my hope and the last choice.
But it is what it is.
It fuels me, keeps me from wandering too far in my head. We all have to die one day. It's better to remember it than keep it for the day you actually die.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Wow.
I didn't know how real it was until I re-read it.
I originally meant this whole book to be a collection of memoirs and poems from the perspective of Sam Carson. Now it feels like what I actually feel in real life.
I mean, it's depressing and stuff, but it's my life. So far, I've lost more than five friends who've left me just because I talk about depressing stuff and just about everything bad that's happening in my life. I always took it seriously that it almost made into someone I'm not. There was a point in my life when I thought I would never be what the world wanted from me. I have made friends, but when I leave the bus and enter the gates of my so-called hell, I feel like hurt. When I see the people who say that I'm a negative influence, I want to tear myself apart. Yesterday I went downstairs with my mom and I saw the person who has impacted my life in such a way that everybody in my apartment hates me for something I'm not. I had a panic attack, right there. And since I've adapted to hiding my feelings because nobody really gives a shit, nobody noticed.
I'm sorry this rant session is longer than the chapter, but it is what it is.
That's what I've learnt from twelve and three-fourth years of existence.
YOU ARE READING
If I Die
Poetry"If I Die, would I be remembered?" Sam Carson is struggling with a lot of things. Mostly Life. Living between life and death, between forced choices and compulsions. Never at peace, always at war against emotions. Always thinking about death.
