You Have A Week





In truth, I have died a long time ago. This is me trying to exist, and failing. 

What news will my cold, hard body bring to you?
Nothing, really.

This is not surprising. I am not the only one who's succumbed to emptiness.
The black hole swallowing me, deep within.
Deeper.
Deeper than that.
But no new beginning awaits. No transition to a White Hole.

I am finally free of the fear I have from doing so : I am okay with the thought that I will be forgotten. That people will move on. 

I am here, I am alive - and yet I am nothing.
An overused word we often use.
Nothing.
You hear it so much, you forget how scary it is.
To feel an entirety of blackness, hollowness.
So vast, no one knows the depth, the width.

People will mourn me for awhile. But like everyone we lose, we learn how to deal with their absence. People will remember the good times, regret the bad.
People will look back on the could haves. The would haves.  The should haves.

Facebook posts and Tweets starting with "Abbie, I wish we..."

Truth is, I am scared of the physical pain. To feel the pain in my final hour might just be my only regret. To "feel" at the very last hour of my life. Heck.

I don't blame any of this on anyone. People around me have been giving me enough love and attention. 

But all this is bigger than that.
It's everything and nothing.
It is the wide space between the Earth, Sky. The Planets.
It is all this, contained in my tiny frame.

My soul must be set free.
It cannot hold this all in.
Not for long.




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