Dear Future Self,

​How do I move on from a lonely hell? Where does one go when a house is not a home? Who do I confide in when no one will listen? I’m starting to feel like I don’t belong anywhere. 

“I’m a burden”  she says as she looks at me with eyes that scream she wished I wasn’t born. “You’re not the only one” my heart whispers to her eyes. I’ve wished this wish a million times and no star, candle, clock or universe ever answered. My prayers go straight into heaven’s junk mail. I break apart and start to contemplate.

Am I too small and unimportant of a being to be recognized? My mind was a cup overflowing with words that drowned me. Why I asked? Why couldn’t a simple wish come true? It was then someone finally saw my letters. “You cannot wish for death” they tell me. “Death is too big of a wish and too cruel of a prayer”  I guess in some way they were right. 

The problem is, I failed to realise I was dead a long time ago. I just didn’t know it. It was when I was silent in my noise, I noticed my heartbeat, touched my pulse, plunged into my warmth and felt…nothing. I was as numb as a corpse. I was a zombie with a broken yet somehow functional brain. I was dead where it hurts the most. I was dead when I first made that wish. 

I now know why they say to be careful what you wish for. Death isn’t as great as it seems. It isn’t a safe net to fall on when life has turned to darkness. It’s never a way out. Unfortunately, I learned this too late. Death is easy to find, but life is hard to earn. Looking back now, I wish I wished for a light to warm me, two arms to hold me and three more wishes to save me. 

As I stay here under my blankets, crying the last tears that made me human into my last source of physical comfort, I reminisce on all the times I smiled a genuine smile. Those will be the last and brightest smiles I will ever see again.

– The child in Death’s darkness

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2 thoughts on “Dear Future Self,

  1. Nancy

    Wow, your writing so powerfully speaks of the pain of the lost child inside who begs to be recognized. I understand this soul death you speak of. I have lived its death many times. I understand the begging for numbness to deaden the pain, only to receive it, and realize that this numb non-feeling is the worst death of all. But the fact you can still write out your anguish, speak the truth of your weary soul, tells me that there is a flicker deep within that still burns to be fanned and flamed. There is one tiny spark of hope that screams to be heard and helped thru the darkness. I hear you. I hear your call. I hear your pain. My own dying, flickering flame recognizes in you a similar calling. It is my hope that in my reaching out thru these words, that for a moment at least, you will not feel so alone.

    Liked by 1 person

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