This week is Non-Fiction and the prompt was simple: write a short essay from the starting point "Death".
Now, this thing could go anyway with me (as everything does, lol) and I've rated it PG-12 simply because it's about death and I don't think children under the age of 12 should be confronted with that just yet. I could be wrong rating it that way, if there are rules for it and I'm 'breaking' them, please let me know and I'll adjust.
Other than that ..... I won't say 'enjoy the read'.
Till death
do us part.
Not only in
‘holy matrimony’, but in every life, whatever your religion, whatever your
views, whatever your beliefs, we live until death do us part.
I’m not
even sure where to take this, but I’m going to go with the flow, as I always
do.
I could
write about the – probably expected – deaths that have occurred in my life. Thankfully,
there haven’t been many. My grandfather when I was 9, my grandmother when I was
13. Other than that, I’ve been marked by the deaths of pets more often than the
deaths of humans. The last one a few years ago, my last dog (until I have time
to take care of one again, hopefully next year). If you’re not an animal or dog
lover, you may wonder how such a thing could ‘mark’ me, but if you don’t
understand, I’m not going to waste my time trying to make you. You do or you don’t. It’s like common sense or an ability
to give without expecting anything in return. You have it, or you don’t. It’s
not something that can be taught, so I won’t try, I’m a very impatient teacher
anyways, so you’re probably better off without the experience.
Do I think
about death a lot?
I guess I used
to, but I don’t think about it as often as I did. I’ve grown older and I’ve
grown stronger. My next tattoo will read “What doesn’t kill you, only makes you
stronger”. It didn’t kill me. I was thinking
about death, I didn’t go as far as others have. There was always something
holding me back, keeping me from taking the plunge – literally.
Not that
the ‘something’ was anything really.
It was a
thought.
A realization.
A reality I
didn’t even want to contemplate.
It just
would never happen.
For over
ten years, that one thought (always the same), kept me going, struggling on,
fighting for every inch of every step I wanted to take.
It didn’t
kill me.
It made me
stronger.
It almost
did, though. Even years later, I still found myself thinking about the
unthinkable. Something else kept me from doing it at that time, but I won’t go
there. It’s a rocky ride I don’t want to take again. I won’t take again. It happened,
it’s over, let’s let it rest.
That is one
thing I can let rest.
Other things
won’t be put to rest.
They just
won’t be silenced, hidden, forgotten. And there is no way in hell they will
ever be forgiven. Most of the time, I’ve ‘got it’ and everything is fine, but
sometimes something happens and everything just takes a slide into chaos. It can’t
be stopped. It’s even worse when I try to stop it. Every once in a while, I have
to let it out and let it play. It doesn’t mean it controls me. It doesn’t mean
it controls who I am or what I do.
I control
it.
Most of the
time.
Most of the
time I am stronger than that.
Stronger than
what was done to me.
Stronger than
what was said to me.
But then,
every so often, in the dead of night and in the darkness of my room, I fall
apart.
Does it
mean I’ll jump off a bridge or put a bullet through my brain?
No, it
doesn’t.
Not anymore.
I never
have.
I never
will.
What doesn’t
kill you, only makes you stronger.
More entries are at Now Hark This!
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