I’m not sure whether I fell in love with the thought of death or the actual act itself.. It’s misleading really.. how we can have the strongest want not to exist anymore but the smallest courage to actually end our existence. It’s scary how fast these feelings change because one minute we are fine and breathing and the next, lying dead on a cold slab of metal in the morgue with all our family and friends that we never knew were there, surrounding our coffin, crying, as our bodies drop into a hole in the ground where they will stay for all eternity.. But in reality, being in love with death doesn’t make you suicidal, it makes you realistic and courageous because one day, it will all end and we need to be ready for that feeling of really leaving, of seeing the light and watching our whole damn life flash before our very eyes and not having the ability to do a single thing to change it.. We must live with death. We cannot run or hide from it, life begins to die. Life begins to reach death. To truly be gone, we must die. This a certainty of life because as much as we love to believe we are immortal, death will hit us one day, and we will be dead.

This thoughts been thrown around between my cortexes for a while.. It's shocking and scary, yet on the contrary, attractive as hell in my mind. It screams kill him or kill him or just kill yourself, cause if you don't, I certainly will. I yell back "you don't scare me", but now it can't hear me, this voice in my head disappears. But then it's back, like a ticking time bomb is going off in my head, there's just no words to say. Tick. Tick. Tick. Closer and closer to my eminent death. Tick. Tick. Tick. The day's roll on and fell like seconds and somehow there's just minutes left. Tick. Tick. Tick. Say my last goodbye, there's not much time cause this voice in my head is screaming "Tick. Tick. Tick." Until finally the bomb goes off, tick. Tick. Tock.