Two Thirds to Heaven

Imagine something as innocent as walking across the street to go to a store.

As you're walking along, you hear shouts. And you don't think twice.

But you realise that every ounce of sound has more panic in each second than the last.

And as you turn to see what the commotion is all about, it hits you.

The car.

It hits you.

All you can remember is the bright circular lights, the panic, the sound of your bones cracking into pieces as you go crashing down onto the car's hood and the car smashes into a nearby wall.

You're lying on the tarmac, warmth pouring out of your nose, forehead, stomach. Hell, there's blood everywhere. But weirdly enough, you don't feel it.

You don't feel any pain at all.

You're stuck somewhere between life and death, holding on by a thread. And you can't even think. You can feel the hardness of the road, the sharpness of the glass, the moisture of the blood. You can feel where your skin is cold because of the night's breeze, and where your arm has been ripped open from the mangled wreck of a car, and you can feel the wind flapping the skin, back and forth, back and forth.

But you can't grasp it.

You can't understand that this is happening, you are dying.

And you will die if nobody calls for help soon.

You can feel your body drifting, you can hear the shouts from the sidewalk.

Your head aches, and nothing will keep still. The sharp pain behind your eyes becomes unbearable, and you decide, maybe its not such a bad idea to close them.

You hear voices, but you don't understand them, they sound further away as each moment passes.

The pain behind your eyes is going, it's getting better, as you slowly drift into unconsciousness.

There's nothing worth putting in the effort to understand during your last few seconds.

You close your eyes and find out later on, that you didn't ever open them again.

It's like looking down the barrel of a Gun.

Disclaimer: The material in this blog doesn't apply to all. In fact, my parents aren't like the ones I wrote about at all. It's just a random burst of emotion, so if you feel offended in some way after reading it,

Get the Fuck Lost.

Parents.

The people that gave us life.

Also the people that mold us how they want us to be. The people that let their disappointment in you shine as bright as the sun. The people that expect you to go down a path, a path that they chose.

They want you to be the best. Because they don't want to feel that they've screwed up. They don't want to think they've made a mistake. They want you to be the best because that way, they wont be alone when they're senile. They'll have somebody. They'll have someone who will look after them. They want you to be the best because they want to fill their pride. They want to have a topic to boast about to their friends. They want to seem important. And you're their excuse.

Parents know what's best for you.
Maybe they do. Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves. Maybe they have plans, plans that will make us successful, plans that will make us rich.

All I really want in Life is to live it. Get through each day with a smile on my face, do something new every so often. Have a job I'm great at AND love. Choose my own series of little winding roads, not just one path. I want to have unexpected experiences, I want to feel what it is to truly be Free, truly be Happy. I want to experience Love. With all it's heartaches and joys. I want to run, run as fast as I can, and not have a single thought about my aching legs. I want to go somewhere and not worry about what I'm going to do. I want to meet new people and not care that we don't speak the same language, all I'll take into notice is the connection we have, as people. I want to wake up with the rising sun, stay up late and count the stars. I want to feel the thrill of rides, taste the sugar and colouring of the cotton candy, laugh at the clowns. Smell the salt of the Pier as I walk along a boardwalk with balloons in my hand. I don't want to have to take pictures for memory; I want to have it all in my head. I want to chase vans in a school car park with friends, I want to laugh until my sides are aching with pain, I want to cry until my eyes swell up. I want to read with only the light of the lamp post on the street outside my window. I want to swim in the ocean and taste the salt on my lips. I want to taste berries, straight from the bush. I want to be like water. Flowing in any direction the wind takes me, casually getting there in my own time. I want to be like Air. Inspiring and Moving others. I want to be the gust of wind that sweeps through your hair on a windy day. I want to be the desired breeze on those scorching hot summers. I want to be like Earth. Bringing new life to things everyday. Providing the care and necessities for others to grow. I want to be like fire. Burning spontaneously; Burning bright.

I don't want the story to be written down. I want to write it as I go along.

And after I experience Life. I'll settle down. I'll get that job that'll make me successful and rich. I'll do it for my parents. After all, I'd owe it all to them. I'd think to myself, amused how "their control over me is what inspired me to rebel. It's what inspired me to do what I want to do. The control..

It challenged me; it made me experience Life."

From afar.

He couldn't feel.

He reminisced about the past. When everything was so simple. The abyss he called a heart. It didn't allow him to feel. It was too fragile. It was a big risk.

He didn't even know who he was. Didn't know who he was supposed to be. He relied on fate to take him where he needed to go. He didn't understand it didn't work like that.

He was good with words, a charmer. Anything he said, put you in a trance. You feel like you're his only one. You forget that you aren't.

What he didn't understand was that his lifestyle- the partying, the fights, the endless list of girls- was exactly what was breaking him. It was taking him further away from discovering himsilf.

It was the devils game.

Thoughts.

I always wonder what somebody's last thoughts might be, just before they kill themselves.

Do they think about their families? About how much pain they're going to cause? About the sacrifices. About the blood and sweat their fathers, husbands, or they went through, to support the family. The trouble of keeping a household together, and about how it's all going down the drain. All of it, the tears, the heartache, the joys.

Or do they think about their friends? When they played with their toy cars and dolls. When they first learnt to ride a bike. Their first pair of high heels, or their very first time to shave. Their first kiss. That time they got so drunk.. About the times they stood by each other, the petty fights, the betrayal. The good times, when they were just kids and parties, drank, flirted. About when they actually managed to get through high school without dying. About when they promised they'd be there for each other when the other went to jail. About their first days in college, their graduation. And when they had to say goodbye to each other forever, to get on with their lives.

Maybe they think about random things going on in the current world? The price of oil is getting extremely high.. I didn't pick up the laundry. When will the president resign? Is she still in jail? What's at the bottom of the ocean? Why are there tv sets in hospital rooms when they're apparently bad for the health? Will they find the cure for cancer?

Or maybe they think about their lives? Is God watching me here? Does God know that I'm throwing away the life he gave me? The life that had so many good moments, but im still not satisfied with? The life that caused me all this depression and hatred. The life that was never worth anything. The life that was a mistake. The life that only came to be because of one crazy night. A night that brought misery to my mothers life. The night that my father swore his love to her, but then apparently didn't have enough love for a child, or her after that.

well they might think about their afterlives..? do they believe that everything will be okay? Can you be haunted in your afterlife? Chased down by the memory of what you did, and the pain you inflicted. The hurt you caused. By taking your life, you could've taken 2 others aswell. What about your children? What will happen to them? Growing up knowing that you killed yourself, they didn't bring enough joy to your life. Can you realise the mistake you made, wherever you go after you die? Can you realise and see, it was never worth it?