death. 14 of 22.

January 6, 2011 Posted by the writer

death

Accepting it does not solve matters, as one might assume.

Shortly after I left Anthony’s, I was more confident than ever before. Contrary to constructing assurance, this broke down everything I wanted to believe.

Deep down, I always wished to be normal.

I accepted this would never be. I realized complete surrender was my only chance of survival. This was a difficult task for me. Certainly you have heard the common saying, “The truth will set you free.”

I could not imagine a more deceitful phrase.

Regardless of how ingrained my beliefs became, I found myself wishing for ignorance more and more. I wanted to be someone who watched television and attended sporting events. A person who ate fast food and got wasted every Friday and Saturday night.

Why couldn’t you just let that be me?

I knew your arrival grew closer each day, and that I had to speak more with my father.

I wanted to hurt myself. I was tired of changing. This rapid cycle of evolution.

I wanted to have 2.5 children and an SUV I had no use for.

The second chair that I thought might end it all had a scarlet cushion and four splintered legs. I was living in Harlem then. Alone.

I wrote you a letter after I made my decision.

You should be here. Why didn’t you see me? Shouldn’t you be stopping this? Why does it always have to be me?

When a voice intervened, I ignored it at first. I was accustomed to disruption. It was what you said that ended my last attempt of freedom.

“Not now!” you pleaded. “Not yet…”

About the writer

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gretchen's brain is preoccupied with words.

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