The below is an account of what happened in my head last night. It’s a reoccurring conversation that I hope someday, will stop.
Last night, I thought about Death.
Not as someone I fear or dread, but instead as someone I thought to be…calming. So I welcomed Death as an old friend and spoke to him for a short while.
I told him how I’d thought I wasn’t very important, to which he said, “You’re not, really.”
I thought about it some more. “And I’m positive my friends and family could do well without me.”
“Yes, yes…that’s right. They could.” He nodded. “What else?”
“And my significant other could surely do better than me.”
“But they all tell me how much they love me, Death. Is it true?”
“No,” he replied. “It never is.”
I felt empty–way emptier than before.
“What else is inside of your head?”
“Well, I’ve yet to accomplish anything and probably never will,” I said.
“Ah, yes.” Death grinned. “How does all of this make you feel?”
“Like I’m a ghost…not a part of the real world. Like I’m drowning while everyone around me is breathing. Like I’m worthless.”
“Will you join me, then?”
I wondered if life’s worth living–if it’d be better for everyone if I’d just gone away for good. I tossed and turned, sulking in the cocoon of blankets, until my head began to hurt.
“Well?” He’d grown impatient with me. “Will you?”
“Not tonight,” I said. “I think I’ll just go to sleep.”