she decided, finally, to leave her tragedies to god and hope he'll accept her burning body as well. it was never something she's had to think hard about, nor was it something she hasn't pondered over before. her last day has been thought of, wished for. planned. now, to be fulfilled.
an accidental push in the right direction, a foolish topple into a willing darkness? she knew how she wanted to die and where. she took her time, testing the waters, maybe it won't be as bad as i think it will, or maybe happiness will come to me when i need it the most. she tries her best to survive although no one seems to be a draped rope if she falls anyway.
nothing she attempts is working. her mind is of raging footsteps and begging mountains, she hasn't even spoken a word in fear her mouth will open with tears and not with sound. her hair has grown to her knees in despair; her eyes have transformed from their visible brown to an invisible grey. she keeps pushing, but the push alone is taking more energy than she dares to give.
her meals are short and unfulfilling. music is no longer warm symphonies but storm like howls from any instrument that is played. the stars beg to unleash their secrets, and hers. the sun throws her fury.
and on the day the moon bled red, she began her journey. it takes weeks to appear at the top of the tallest mountain top she can afford to climb, she has faced myriads of terrors on her way up, attempting to frighten herself of coming at all, but to no avail. because she made it. her feet are bloody and tired, the body she held is pure water and bone. (nobody knows ... the trouble i've seen..) she cannot help but feel satisfied that this was the last the world would see from her.
she hopes it takes her with open arms-
oh, but that view.
a rainbow has melted in front of her eyes. hues of gold were before her, and scents of heaven filled her nostrils. they fought with the ones of sadness, and it is a battle neither of them won. her body nearly collapses feeling her heart beat so.
she cannot ( and doesn't ) expect for a lone savior to come running as she reflects on her life changing decisions. the forest behind her is her spectator, as she stands upon growth and unsteady stone. slowly, her eyes move to look at the sky and the views before her, deciding that she should at least see something beautiful before she goes.
"lovely," she says to no one, still standing. grateful that she can see a feeling she has never felt; silence as her only companion. the world before her glows, but it is an underwhelming shine. her being is still full of darkness.
she sighs, bringing a tear to slide down her cheek. it had to end this way. exhaustion is a cold blanket forced around her, and those around her dared to tell her that beauty was pain. right now, atop of the world and floating on wind, she believes them.
beauty was most definitely pain. so was love, and joy. and sadness. everything you adore comes with the pain of losing it. and she was tired of losing everything; tired of searching for something only for it to leave her when she really needed it. people were just satan's little playthings, and between vices is where he bribed his darlings.
her eyes close as she slowly steps forward, feeling the stone beneath her tremble beside her bleeding feet. another step as she tries to empty her mind before any other thoughts.
they come anyway. you try, they say, more taunting than begging, because you are weak. to be stronger — a tear, a released breath — you must try. no one will commend you. but look at the sky.
her eyes open for a moment. it is beautiful, she admits.
no, her thoughts tell her, it is without pain.
and despite everything, despite every damned thought and trial that she endured, despite the sheer hate she held for the skin protecting her bones, she stays still. not because she saw the light (the sun has now descended into darkness), not because she understood why she felt the way she felt, and not because she finally felt some piece of the happiness she was stolen.
but because she had hope. because she was willing to endure the outcome of another day. she hoped that something would rotate within her. that something would make sense, bring her her judgement with a blinding smile and fill her with something she could hold onto without the fear of it bowing to oblivion. something hers.
so she moves her feet backwards, not knowing if she was up there for minutes or hours, and tries to turn around and begin her journey back down,
but hope. . . betrayed her.
the stones beneath her feet give way to the pressure above them, and her body sails through the air, hitting the ground before she can contemplate how or why. she cannot breathe or move, swallow or spit.
she is dying.
at last?
or forsaken?
she cannot decide this either. she tries forcefully to keep her eyes open; the stars were bright tonight, looking as they were moving in patterns, instead of just twinkling in place.
she opens her mouth to speak out her last words, hoping they're something proved worthy to be heard from any ears, "are the stars dancing?" she asks, wondering if they were rejoicing from her end. blood seeps from her lips, "or weeping?"
she dies, beholding a question on her mind she believed would never be answered.
and as her heart finally stops and her body lies still, a lone deer gracefully enters from an abundance of trees, with flowers growing from his antlers. he silently stoops near her, whispering a language she cannot hear nor understand from her unhearing ears.
"they are weeping."
