I feel lost. Every inch of me is a new sea of emptiness. My breath is a vacuum. I try to inhale, but instead I am just further deprived of the oxygen I so desperately desire. Perhaps I did something to deserve this. Perhaps the gods were watching when I kicked my brother’s head into the toilet many years ago. Or perhaps this is just the way of things, isn’t it? There is no rhyme or reason. There is only life and what comes out of it. If I can’t breathe, perhaps another is breathing instead. If I can see, perhaps another is blind. If I can’t feel, perhaps my soul is meant to be engulfed in this black, gruesome query of existence.

I open my arms, look up at the falling rain, and roar. It’s not a scream, it’s a roar. There’s no other way to put it. It’s a sound from deep within me, the very core of my being crying out to the power of the wind.

And then I drown. And every second I try to breathe is just another second closer to not thinking of her. So I am finally content, knowing that within a few minutes it will ALL be over.

To hell with breathing. I’d rather smile any day.



"And if it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart, the only dream that mattered had come true. In this life, I was loved by you."

--Colin Raye