Everything, no matter where I look, is so bright. Unlike that final moment when darkness slowly crept across my vision until all I saw was darkness. At that moment, I realized I’m finally dead. I didn’t think I’d wake up once more, but here I am, standing in the middle of nowhere.
“Come forward,” called a voice.
I look down and see my own two bared feet. I raise my arms and see my red-streaked wrists. I examine my blood-splattered dress and realize there’ll be no changing them. I take a step forward—not caring where ‘forward’ may lead—and follow the voice.
“What is your name?”
I look around and see no one besides myself. Where the voice is coming from? That I do not know. If I could still speak—that I am not aware—but is still worth a try so I clear my throat.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“The gates,” reply the voice.
“The gates to where?”
To peace? My eyes flicker to my slashed wrists. “I’m not sure I deserve peace,” I hear myself say. Continue reading “To Peace”
I paint the floor red through the fluid that leaks from the cuts on my wrist. As I wait for my life to meet its end, memories swarm into my brain like a movie. I’m watching my own life. Sure, things didn’t work out well for me and life has been cruel to me but then as life itself slowly escapes my living body, the good things started to flash into my mind. The cheerful memories replaced the sad ones and I’m back with my joyous moments. I thought about my parents, my siblings, my friends. How I promised my little brother I’d be his protector while he’s young. How I swear to my sister I’d be her maid of honor at her wedding. How I smiled and let my parents believe I was fine. How I usually tell my friends “Everything’s gonna be okay.” I thought about how I promise myself to get stronger and yet here I am –drowning in misery and too coward to put up a fight with the trials I am faced. And then it hit me–I wanted to change. However, death could not help me change anything. Shame, how I can be easily defeated and lured by death. Stupid, how I thought death would make it better when it would only make it worse. Funny, how by death which was to save me in my temporary earthly life would be the cause of my unending suffering in eternal life.
Now I want to live so badly. I tried to stop the bleeding but my hands are too weak to aid the cut. I want to live, I whispered. Help me! I cried. I want to live…I want to live…I want to…I want… I…