Status: short story; completed.
You're Gone
1/1
I wonder what life would have been like with you around longer. I wonder at all the possibilities of the future. Maybe mom would stop being such a horrid bitch, maybe dad would care more. Would I be happier if you were still here, or would I still be the old me; depressed and anxious? The anxiety of being without you has already caused me so much grief that it’s hard to carry on living this way. I think of you and automatically burst into tears. I don’t know how to live anymore.
While you were in the hospital, you said things would get better; they didn’t, they only got worse. You were hooked up to a million machines. You looked pale and weathered. I couldn’t see you like that; I wouldn’t see you like that, not from what you used to be. You used to be lively and bright with an off personality and keen sense of humor. You brightened my day, but you began to waste away and my days began to dim. Nothing is okay anymore. Why doesn’t everyone understand that I can’t be happy anymore? You were what made me happy. You are no more; therefore my happiness is no more.
Knowing that you’re gone beats at my worn heart; it is being held by a few heartstrings, the others have snapped. My battered soul longs for you to return to this unholy world. I have gone through so much pain and distrust it makes me sick thinking about others who have gone through the same ordeals. Are they like me; sad and lonely? Do they hear your voice at night coming and going like the wind? Do they feel your presence watching over everything they do?
Must I suffer any longer? I couldn’t save you but it wasn’t my fault. You died just like anyone of us does. We get old and wither away. We drift farther apart from our families and suffer in loneliness.
Near the end you asked us to take you off life support. I watched your eyes bulge as the doctor pulled the plug. You weren’t ready, I could tell. Your chest shuddered and you screamed; a noise that was unbearable to me. I couldn’t deal with it; you being gone. Your body shook a few times and your eyes closed. You were dead and gone. I wish you wouldn’t have said that and acted like you were so sure of yourself. Truthfully, the doctor was going to take you off sooner or later.
Now I have to fight. Fight for myself in this war against my head. Your death has made weak, for I am open for all to see.
While you were in the hospital, you said things would get better; they didn’t, they only got worse. You were hooked up to a million machines. You looked pale and weathered. I couldn’t see you like that; I wouldn’t see you like that, not from what you used to be. You used to be lively and bright with an off personality and keen sense of humor. You brightened my day, but you began to waste away and my days began to dim. Nothing is okay anymore. Why doesn’t everyone understand that I can’t be happy anymore? You were what made me happy. You are no more; therefore my happiness is no more.
Knowing that you’re gone beats at my worn heart; it is being held by a few heartstrings, the others have snapped. My battered soul longs for you to return to this unholy world. I have gone through so much pain and distrust it makes me sick thinking about others who have gone through the same ordeals. Are they like me; sad and lonely? Do they hear your voice at night coming and going like the wind? Do they feel your presence watching over everything they do?
Must I suffer any longer? I couldn’t save you but it wasn’t my fault. You died just like anyone of us does. We get old and wither away. We drift farther apart from our families and suffer in loneliness.
Near the end you asked us to take you off life support. I watched your eyes bulge as the doctor pulled the plug. You weren’t ready, I could tell. Your chest shuddered and you screamed; a noise that was unbearable to me. I couldn’t deal with it; you being gone. Your body shook a few times and your eyes closed. You were dead and gone. I wish you wouldn’t have said that and acted like you were so sure of yourself. Truthfully, the doctor was going to take you off sooner or later.
Now I have to fight. Fight for myself in this war against my head. Your death has made weak, for I am open for all to see.
♠ ♠ ♠
450 words. con/crit?