Why

This place it was everything...a dream...a home. A place to live, eat, rest, sleep. 

Trees so green, I challenged the color. The sound of birds chirping, and flittering wings that filled the small space with such a light, delicate wind, that would brush against my cheek. Small things.

The peace so finite, I felt free. 

Without them. 

Without pain. 

The sun shone brilliantly, its glow warmed my face...my body. 

Smiling I rolled over...and for a moment sucked air into my lungs before I felt the intense pain roll over my tired body. My side ached as if it were ripped open.

I slowly opened my eyes.

Succumbed to such sadness, I questioned my worth.

I found a gray sky. Dark, damp, ominous. 

I sensed more than felt the warmth of the tears that slid down my parched skin.

I dreamt of a day gone by. A life lost. A time that no longer existed.

I hated that dream. I'd hated that it repeated itself so many times. I actually, hopefully, questioned my reality. But no. Here was the truth. 

Here I lay on my side, the cold ground cradling me, and wished I were dead. 

Dead like the lost souls who aimlessly walked the steps once filled with commerce, children, life, happiness—my happiness—chomping with teeth, the sound alone that would propel me into a sadness like no other.  Darkness...lifeless...hopeless.

Day two hundred twenty-eight.

I've been counting, although I promised myself I wouldn't.

Not that it brought me solace. It didn't bring me ease. It just brought me the lost reality that was my life. 

I think of a time when men and women weren't pit against one another. When mere 'birds' flung up towards the windshield of another driver was satisfying enough a retribution. Where the worst food would now be considered gourmet in comparison. Where warmth, through and through, was expected and not a millisecond in a memory felt a long time ago. When the world was full of war, but even paced. Where people tolerated one another. Where survival was a subway ride home.

It all seems so silly now.

Legacy?

What legacy will I leave? Having no children to impart my old fashioned wisdom, or righteous indignation, I find myself alone. Very alone.

I've decided my legacy, whomever will find it and benefit, will be something that will bring peace.

My legacy is a gun—a working gun and a bullet. A single bullet. 

Do not waste this gift. Don’t do as I have done. I've learned the hard way, I should have taken that very legacy from my own father. I've learned that the world falling is just that. 

Falling into an abyss you don't, you can’t, see coming.

Enjoy the last dip on the roller coaster that once was life. There is no light here, nor will there ever be. Only darkness.

A void.

Take my work as truth. Take what I offer.

Take it.

Peace.