Lost. I am lost. I glance at the Northern Lights...they remind me of Home...at winding, weaving, glorious path of pure light. I want to go Home. I glance at my empty glass and it glances back, reflecting my own clarity. My book lies on my covers, opened, the words not resonating...just a thing; an empty thing. Paper. Paper burns, and so does my heart.
An empty space is there. I try to fill it, but it is no good. I feel almost high on the knowledge of what I shall do now. It feels like something wonderful, relieving, welcome. Never to feel pain again, never to feel again. Who is there to leave behind? I know all the tricks. It is easy. Spit words out, make them hate you then they will pull party poppers as your coffin flies past. 'Good riddance, she was nothing but a burden to us', they would think, false tears shining in their false eyes, among their false lies. Lies. I do not lie... I should have. I will do from now on. I will lie about how I feel, until the time comes, then I will say, 'I die, I lie, which is the truth?'.
I shall become unpenetrable to all. Unreachable, back to purity of silence. Lies are pure, they would have me believe. I lie, I die, I am stone. Look at my surface, for that is all you see...you spit at my grey heart. Kick me for I am stone, unfeeling stone.
The water washes over me, dripping down my rocky sides, melting the ground beneath me. The water turns red. It is dense, metallic and sticky in it's form. The water washes it away, but it cannot do it this time...the red persists and continues its steady track into the earth.
And there I will lie.
The stone was honest. It told no lies. It just was. It braved the sun beating down on it's shell. It braved the rains that coloured it a strange blue. It tried to brave the storms but finally, it yielded to the elements and split into pieces, washed away by the tide of life, it's death.