The first time I looked myself in the mirror, I saw a dark small box with one tiny ray of light. The second time, I saw a boy lost in no-wonder land. Under the sun, some grasses grow, some die. Boys like me, the latter they’ll choose.
Boys like me don’t smile to themselves. We don’t talk in small silent clauses. We have bruises the shape of roaming clouds sitting inside our skins. With smile hitched to our faces, we go down, slowly, quietly, each day.
This is how it happens, and the way to the calmer yonder. How peacefully one sleeps, without a thought, without a tear, without a feeling.
If I have a pen, I would draw a confused god who dotted a black sky white, and the replica of myself. No one tells how relieving walking into the darkness without ever coming out is.
But, the old, old soldier told me, not all that glitters-not aren’t gold. It makes the black bottle more appealing to me, once said, it contains deadly poison.
Deadlier things have I faced, life rejected my one knee-bent proposal.
Where else is more peaceful, serene, quiet, calm, where my heart can find peace? Spite, hatred, anger dwell in the bottomlessness of my untamed heart because, her sparkling face glistens my dreams with indifference.
I once thought, why live when death seems peaceful, and the road to heaven short?
I have chosen Akachi’s suicide note as mine, too.
“Forgive me. In case you are the one who found the body, I am sorry. It had to be someone, you know. “They said you came looking for me. I didn’t drown; I was the water.” Where do atheist go when they die? lol. Amen.”
ANONYMOUS.