Gone Forever

Last night I had a dream. I was laying motionless on my back, walls of plush black velvet encasing my body. Around me the sound of music swirled and I knew very well what the song was. “Shattered by Broken Dreams” by Avenged Sevenfold. Along with the music was the raucous clutter of sobbing and sniffling. The sounds that Tuttle’s is usually faced with, it’s expected though of course, seeing as it is a funeral home.

Last night, I had dreamed my death. But it wasn’t an ordinary death of old age or a car accident. It was a planned death, planned so flawless there was almost beauty in its ghastly structure. The dream was about how I planned my perfect suicide, if there ever were such a thing.

Between the images of my lifeless, azure body, tucked neatly inside my opened casket were flashing of the past; flashing of the synful act I had committed. All of the pictures flashed slowly in my mind like faded dull photographs portraying the grizzly scenes of my overly thought-out ingenious plan.

The very first to come to mind was myself, sitting huddled up in the bathtub, the water falling down on me in horrid amounts of scorching hot water, visibly burning my skin. In my hands was a crude, mocking, little razor blade which I held skillfully in my hand. What disgusted me the most was the twisted grin on my lips as I stuck the blade in my mouth and roughly pulled upward. I repeated this both times, never once loosing my some-what serene mood as countless tears flooded from my eyes but you could hardly tell anyway. They were there though, unseen but real. Like how I often feel myself. My face was now in a never terminating grin, sarcastic and menacing.

The only way I’ll really smile, is if you cut me ear to ear.

I didn’t stop there, though. Next was the attack on my stomach, where a little artwork would be done. I carved three simple Italian words into the skin of my stomach right before my chest. Three simple words that sum it all up.

sono così spiacente

I’m so sorry

And yet, even then, I was not finished. I was nearly drained then, but the blood, a rushing crimson tainted the water and rushed over my skin as the brought the razor to my skin for the final time. It was a clean cut straight across my neck. And with the final cut made, I did not scream in agony or cry uncontrollably. I was silent. Silently smirking. Unbound from the restrictions of the living.

The scene was over now, back to the funeral scene where I could see the faces of people who claimed that they “cared” and I assume that only few of the people here truly did. But I knew that most of them were fake though, forced to be here by some driving force or another. Guilt, most likely. Not that it mattered anyway. The people I knew cared were all in the back, crying by themselves, not wanting the comfort of waiting, willing arms. It’s exactly how I sat at the funerals of the ones that I loved most in my awkward, uncomfortable cotton, black dress.

And now it was on to the letters. The six letters I wrote to the people that needed an explanation or the ones I needed to have the last word with. They were letters of my very last thoughts before I had gone out with a bang, I would say. We’ll start with the simplest first, shall we?

The one to my mother was very short.

If you have to ask if you are to blame then you are.I hope you’re finally happy, mom. Finally got what you wanted, right? Don’t lie now, it’s not very attractive.

My long lost ex-best friend Kaitlyn Ort.

I missed you near the end. It’s true. And you helped me. You really did. You helped me realize what a pathetic little person every really is inside, myself included. I hope you sing a happy song about this day, Kait. ‘Cause your finally free from me.

To my step-sister Samantha, who I love dearly.

The four years we haven’t hated each other have gone too quickly. I just wished we hadn’t spent al those years hating each other. I really don’t know what to say to you big sis, except that I love you without any questions asked. And I hope that you are more pissed at me right now for being a selfish bitch than sad. ‘Cause then I knew that you were acting normal, Hun. I know you’re going to shine real bright some day and I just want you to smile up at the stars and think about your little sister once and a while.

To Sabrina the girl who I thought was a best friend for life.

You wanted our friendship to end, and for you it did. But it didn’t for me. Even though I spent nights alone crying, telling myself that I’m a horrible person for whatever it was I did to you, I still love you. A friendship like that doesn’t just disappear for me, even if I resent you for it now. I don’t care if you hate me, or if you’re laughing up a storm right now or spitting on my grave, because I still love you like a sister even when you treated me lower than the dirt you walk on.

Kristen and Abby, my friends from afar.

You guys might not have been near me all the time, and we might not have hung out every day or even often, but it doesn’t matter. I still love you so much. And you made me so happy when I wasn’t able to see the light. You guys helped me to find a happy point of insanity when I couldn’t myself.

Last but not least, the three people who have helped me more than anyone else, and have delayed this moment as much as humanly possible. Tara, Patti and Aiden.

Patti is the only one I’ve actually met out of the three of you, but it doesn’t even matter. Even though we only connect through the internet it doesn’t matter to me, because you three have a huge part in my heart. Who knew that three people could be brought together because of the common love of Avenged Sevenfold and the silly stories written about them? You guys spent endless time reading my pointless stories and talking to me for countless hours about the most random of topics. It’s you who have truly stopped this day from coming any sooner than it did. It was you who I was living for at the end.

Tara, you opened up top me and let me rant on and on to you about how much I couldn’t stand life and you tried to show me how it could all be worse and I should basically suck it up. You didn’t say that though because you’re much too nice but still you made your point clear. I was the one who just couldn’t take the help. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I broke my promise you guys. I said I live to the day that I could met all of you, but I didn’t. and I apologize, I really do. Just know that I really do love all three of you and I really can’t say it any more than I already have. Know that if anyone should ever take the blame besides me, it would never land on your shoulders.

The very last image I ever saw of that dream was the coffin being slammed shout, the thudding rain against the wood as those nine people carried my coffin into the back of that hearse. Some smiling, some guilty, most sobbing--for reason unknown to me--but there was one thing they all shared in common. The basic knowledge that I was finally gone forever.

The scariest thing about the entire dream is that it wont vacate my thoughts, awake or asleep. Its all I see anymore. How plausible it is. You know what makes it all that much worst? The day the calendar portrayed when I dug that cold steel into my flesh…June fourth, two-thousand and ninth.

It makes me wonder how many days I have to walk with the living. Could there truly only be sixty-five days left?