Pain without sound

He’s dying and I’m not sure what to do. I feel so fucked up, because I can’t even cry. We’ve always been good friends, and he’s the last person I ever expected to end up this way. He’s going to likely die a very slow, agonizing death, and I only wish that there was some way to take away the pain. They’ll prolong it; they always do. How cruel.

I am yet again reminded why I have been so faithless for so long. All I have to fall back on is hate, and that absolute realization that life will someday kill us all. Death is rarely bestowed on the willing. There was a time when I would have eagerly taken another’s place at the front of the line. And now, I just don’t know.

I wish you a painless, easy death. Thank you for sharing time with me. I’m sorry that there is nothing I can do.

I promise it’s okay to be afraid.

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2 thoughts on “Pain without sound

  1. Alex Jones November 15, 2012 / 3:16 pm

    Death is certain for us all. Few know the manner or the time of their death. Often we take everything for granted, we then fail to appreciate how important those that are around us are until death comes to take them away. We on facing the death of another look into the mirror of our own mortality. Death strips away all illusion.

  2. Akima April 25, 2013 / 1:19 pm

    I was always afraid of the death of those who I cared for. But now, I just don’t know. Isn’t it better that they die to be rid of this torturous world, this repetitive cycle of nonsense?
    They say they don’t like to die, that they’re afraid of death. I’d rather give them the years ahead of me, to grant them their wish and rid myself of ‘this’, but there seems to be no such luck.
    I don’t know. I don’t know what my reaction would be if someone close to me were to die. Maybe it would bring me a step closer to being the monster; maybe it would throw me over the edge of sanity, or maybe it would make me drown in numbness.
    I don’t know.
    I might cry, but it would never be for them. I forgive them for everything they did to me, but i won’t give them no more. Not anymore to bury with themselves under layers and layers of this filthy soil.
    Those tears are mine, for the little dead me.

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