Melancholic Beauty

Im drowning. No, not in any one of the countless ponds that lay scattered across the map of my campus.

I am suffocating. But not due to the exasperating heat and this surprisingly compact and tight prison I call my room.

Im dying. But not in the conventional sense of the word.

Im lost; the map in my hands and the path simply laid out in front of my eyes, yet somehow, I am lost.

I wish college were easier and I wish I had never taken that leap of faith into the dastardly scary, deep waters below. The plunge, the rush, the cold of the wind and the frigid lake, oh how I wish I were dead so that I would just stop thinking.

I just wanted a normal life, a decent relationship and some hope if fate would allow it but it seems as though life had other plans. One after the other, every single moment and every single feeling was upheaved and derailed, sent flying across the barren land that used to be my soul, happy and joyful.

Do I stay and keep looking in from the outside or do I leave and leave everything here on the porch of the house we built together?

The monument of our very virtuous and brave being is now a husk of the true word of affection and emotions. Through the deathly eerie silence, the screeches and howls of the rabid monsters tear through the nightly chills across the growing dark woods that lay wasted around the cabin we bereave.

Empty, abandoned and desolate... The words I would use to describe my soul

Take a seat Dear Reader. Though its coming to a close I hardly doubt its time to put down the book. Come enjoy the bleak and dusty landscape that refuses to leave the dark. Word of caution if I may, dont make it your home.

Look look! Above the tree line. Do you see the colony of bats that conquer the night sky? And what is that dark silhouette in the distance towering over the entire woods eclipsing the moon and bringing the quiet peaceful dark to all. The wolves have now stopped howling.

Oh how beautiful it is. The dark mist rising to my knees and the pull of the living cadavers just reaching from the graves. It really is a shame that I am yet again afraid to take that leap of faith, that I am afraid to leave the front porch of the desecrated place I once claimed to be my home. I can feel the bodies calling me like sirens at sea; they want me...

Dearie, what do you think of me, the dangling edges of my sanity. I want to go over and be set free.

Dearie, I dont wanna live. Kill me...