yesterday i died alone.
it wasn’t too bad, just a little colder than i’d expected. just a little quieter than i’d expected. i think i’d always intended to give a scream or a shout when i feel the life leave me, but i think i only let my last breath out in a whisper.
i wasn’t really disappointed. it was an epic whisper. the only complaint i have was that i was the only one to share in its glory. no one was around to stoop to hear the air escaping my lungs. but at least the room heard me. and people are always telling me that the walls have ears…
i died alone, yet i did not feel alone. i never in my entire life even suspected that this was the case. live alone, die alone, right? and the lonliness of living is the same as the lonliness of dying. or so i thought.
but as i felt the life leave me, and i issued forth that great epic whisper that none but the walls and myself heard, i felt other presences near me. now, while i say ‘presences’ plural, i actually mean ‘presence’ singular, but many of them. to illustrate the idea, imagine a hundred people alone. if you can, then you know what i have seen. they were all alone, all dying in their own dismal pool of lonliness, yet i was a companion to each one. so we died alone.
i’ve always wanted to know what that feels like.
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