What I mean is, if you thought about the feeling while dying.
Well, to tell the truth, I did.
I did so much, that now I am sitting in the bath with razor blade (you know the little knife of mine), and thinking how it is possible, that I am really willing to do this.
I am an idiot, but I really want to know that feeling.
If you are asking me, why the hell I started thinking about death itself, I already forgot.
Maybe it was the endless parets fighting, maybe it was that bullying or maybe it was just the loneliness that I felt in my heart for ages.
Well, who cares anyway.
I sat straight and held razor blade foeward on my skin.
I used a little bit force to cut it.
Too much stenght.
The blood of mine was so red. It was kind of fascinating.
I felt it as it flew out of my body.
My hands sank down by my body. My eyes were fascinated by the blood blowing out from my vains.
Then my mind went blank. All I could see wasred backround which was quickly (I mean really quickly) changing into a black one. Quickly.
And the feeling?
I was feeling a mixture of all feelings I ever had. Sadness, for not having enough fun. Happiness, for the new freedom, and also helplessness, because I am an idiot 'till the end.
I laught. I laught at myself.
And than, it was the end. I felt nothing.
Absolutely nothing. I was....
...death.
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kokinka
6. 6.júna 2011 22:05
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