After-Life

Death. To all of those whomst I've met over the course of my short life, it was a somber word. A word signifying the end of something sweet, something joyful. I believe-- no I know, there are worse things than death. Loneliness. Fear. Regret. Guilt. Betrayal. We make death out to be such a dark thing yet why does it feel so freeing? I've always seen birds used in literature to represent deaths, and now I can finally, truly understand why. Dying feels as if you've taken flight and have whisked away all that once burdened you. And I have never felt better. Perhaps my family still remains down in the mundane world, cursing my name, yet all their words do is add wind under my wings. Luckily I am no longer a part of that world, now my only worry is where to fly next. Perhaps to the ocean to enjoy a nice sea breeze? I feel the sun shining on my face- Shit. Why is it so damn bright? Did the curtains open while I was asleep? Ah. It was a dream. Perhaps a better word is "a memory yet to happen"? My seventeenth birthday to be exact. The day I was finally free, the day I watched myself get impaled on my Father's arrow and bleed out on the forest floor. Though, I don't have much time nor energy to care for that too much, especially seeing as that day is 9 years from now. Why must the God of Life curse me to live again? I am sure there are plenty out there with unfulfilled wishes who would looove a second chance at life. I was plenty happy being dead. Trigger warnings for: Physical and mental abuse, violence, death, suicide mentions, and suicidal ideation.