Once a upon a time, my dear HS English teacher from Senior year asked us to write something. It wasn't an essay or reflection paper that we, as Xaverians, were used to (frankly, those kinds of papers ran on autopilot) -- no, for this particular writing exercise, we were to write our own eulogy if we were to die 10 years from where we stood.

Berk, of course, had the best eulogy to offer and our teacher had him read it in class and when he was done reading his piece, I felt it -- a cold chilling touch from a distant grave that tugged at me, making me realize that we are truly alone. Death for me, was never a loud bang at the end of a barrel -- it had always felt like drowning in an invisible ocean.

As much as you struggle, it just pulls you down further and amidst your struggles, there is nothing but the vast eternity of falling into an abyss. No one can hear your screams. You shout at the top of your lungs, a defiant bellow so loud that it threatens to rip your soul apart and it all falls on deaf ears. It drains you of your lasting breath and it tightens around your neck like a black vise until you give up and accept your demise. No one is there to hear you... no one is there, period -- just your endless screams echoing in a void.

Then, you wake up and realize you're still alive.

Your breathe is still short as air rushes in your lungs. You feel your pulse racing as you remember that you're safe and sound while a cold sweat trickles down your brow. I wanted to scream then and cry agonizingly because I woke up. I woke up to the real world, to a life full of a very real pain. And then I say "enough" and try to go back to sleep. I'm angry all of a sudden, angry more than I have ever been and I don't know why.

Maybe because I feel cheated somehow or maybe this life is just too long. I don't know. There are too many things going around my head, changing every second, tearing me apart and the fact is, I miss having someone there to hold on. It always feels more certain to look forward to tomorrow when you have someone there to smile back at you and for a brief time, I thought I had that until I realized that I was chasing dead stars. And the realization of that feels more like death than anything else.

The cold truth is that I'm the only one caring too much. A friend told me that I'm very unfair, unfair because I will not give a chance for anyone to help me. That I run away before anyone even comes in contact. I run away from what I want, so to speak. It all catches up eventually, I'm afraid and on days like these, it bears down on me more heavily than usual. At these times, I wish I could let the night swallow me whole as I drop down into an empty abyss but that is just a dream I have every so often... and as far as I'm concerned, dreams don't come true anymore.

I will have to come to terms with what has been eating me eventually and I AM going to hurt some people's feelings but I owe myself that much at least. People WILL not like me for what I'm going to do once that day comes but if they are what they say they are, then maybe it won't be as bad as I think it would be.

That being said, I welcome back an old acquaintance of mine... I've kept him locked up for so long that I have forgotten what he had taught me all these times I would feel like dying. Yes, I shall not deny the path I took back then because I have realized that to stare my demons in the face means not only to find redemption in doing good but also, to embrace the darkness, our regrets, our mistakes, our deaths -- because in our most wretched times, admit it, we find the fortitude to do things we wouldn't normally do. I have denied this part of myself for so long that I am making the same mistakes, going down the same path again and never realizing that I am dying again.

"Grow some, Marty. No one's coming to help you"

Yeah, he's right. I shouldn't depend on people to help me, it's ultimately up to them. I cannot ask anyone to die with me, try as hard as I might and yet, that notion also gives me comfort because it makes letting go of the painful things much easier. So much easier.

I hate you for everything you have ever done. How dare you call yourself my friend, that was lie. I wasn't even worth this much and you kept me on. I swear, I'll see everything you have done for me burn. The feeling is now, officially, mutual. I never want to be in association to any of your kind any longer. You have earned, at least, THAT much from me.

I'm so done with people walking all over me. I'm done running. Fuck if I care about them now, they can eat my dust -- I'm walking. Good night.