Perfectly Imperfect

nine > > of painting and pain.

prompt nine: write a scene with only one character, alone. 

A/N: This is admitedly sort of bleak and dark because I'm a depressive little shit. You've been warned.

I'm not ready for this. 

God, I am not ready. 

My fingers clasp onto my bed, digging into the sheets, begging to stay. Just another day. Just another night, god. I pray to a diety I am not even sure I believe in. Nearly seventy years old and I still do not know if I believe. If that isn't sad, I'm not sure what is. 

The pain in my stomach deepens and I cring, but I hold on by a thread. 

I am alone, completely alone. 

So alone. 

I've been alone for twenty years, since my entire family died, along with my husband a few months later. 

I suppose that should make me ready to go, shouldn't it? 

But it doesn't. 

Not even a little bit. 

I suppose that is because I still don't know if they are awaiting me on the other side, or if there even is another side. What if it is all black? What if it is rot and oblivion? What if it is nothingness? 

Would that be more or less welcoming than this personal hell? This land where I am completely alone? 

When I pictured dying as a young woman I did not picture it so sudden. I did not picture it to sneak up on me the way old age did. I did not expect it to come at all, really. I never thought much of it. I fancied myself the exception.

Don't we all? 

Now I am so very close to giving up, so tired, so weary. I am equal parts ready and unready to go and I am unsure which side will win out. 

I laugh bitterly.

I have really learned nothing. I still think of death like it is factor I can control, as though I will not go any minute. 

I think all of these things in what is probably seconds, but it seems so much longer. 

I'm not ready. 

God, I'm not ready.

I want to figure out my purpose.

I want to publish that novel I always thought I would.

I want to learn to paint.

I want to visit Africa. 

I want to fall in love all over again.

I want one more kiss that makes me weak at the knees.

I want to have children.

I want to go back in time.

I want-