Poetry/ Stories

Meeting With Death

My life seems so pointless.

I am so tired of waking up.

I wonder when will I die.

I’ll die happy.

No one truly cares for me.

And if they do, they can’t take care of me.

I always have to do it alone.

I can only rely on myself.

I have no one to rely on, and no one is relying on me.

I can’t take it.

I’m tired of life pushing me around.

I’m tired of all the bullshit.

One day, I took pills.

A lot of pretty colored pills.

I drank it up, and lay on my bed.

I was meeting up with death.

I don’t know how death looks like, and I’ll never know because.

I didn’t die.

After I took the pretty pills, I slept.

I felt free for a moment till someone held on to my arm.

I forgot who it was.

But it was my friend.

It was my beautiful friend.

He told me to stay.

He said that I can lean on him.

That I can make it.

If I were to leave him right now, then I shall never see him again

So I did what he told me to do.

I lived.

And now I wondered if that dream was true.

Maybe that was the miracle of my suicide.

My friend saved me again.

My friend, the man who I fell for.

~Iora

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