Part One Out of Three

I sat on my back porch and watched the trees move in the dark, imagining I was someone else. I stopped pretending for a moment, realized that the emotions that I feared never left, and the world went flat, with sharp edges that stung. I remembered that every day was the same exhaustion, and nothing anyone did helped me. Imagination had always only been half a friend, but now it turned completely against me. Finally, although I was still breathing, I died.

Part Two Out of Three

“So now what,” I ask My Death. It's wearing dark green and glowing a little at the edges.

It clears its throat. “First, let's run over a summary of your thought processes and emotions so far, for the record. Your thoughts rising, dark and tall, then blankness rushing down to cut them off. Thoughts of death eating black circles in your mind. Wanting to cut yourself into pieces and then rebuild yourself. Needing people but not wanting them. Joy and contentment rushing through you like an upside down waterfall, only to vanish once it reaches your thoughts. Does this sound accurate?”

I frown.

“You probably want your friend Irene. Well, you'll never see her again. Don't look at me like that. You let this happen.”

“I let this happen. But I want to stop. Where's your damn off switch?”

“You just try to find it. I'll be standing right here, laughing at you.”

I can't summon the energy to move my limbs. My father sticks his head out the door and says something, but I can't hear him and he leaves after a moment.

“Weren't you always saying that you wanted to be alone? Well now you are.”

“I'm not alone. I'm stuck with you,” I protest. I hope that by beating its logic, I'll make it retreat.

“So you noticed the obvious, congratulations. But this is a dictatorship now, and I say that your argument is invalid. You see, you can't win this.”

“So you're going to gloat over me forever?”

My Death just spreads its hands and says nothing. After a few seconds I go cold and my stomach starts to rot and boil. My breathing quickens, and panic tightens my shoulders. I try to remember all the things I'm supposed to when she feels like this: happiness and courage and...and...and...

“Irene wouldn't want this for me,” I manage at last.

“She doesn't care about you. She acts like she does, but it's a lie.”

My head slumps downwards.“Will you ever go away?”

Its smile widens. “No.”

The minutes pass into half an hour.

This isn't an inspirational story, by the way. Sorry kids. There's no huge victory where I punch the villain in the face and run into the sunset with Irene. The story ends with My Death standing there in silence, smiling as I feel my limbs and jaw go numb, completely powerless.




Part Three Out of Three


You still there? OK, maybe just a little bit more.

I take a deep breath. “Someday I'll be older and I'll have some things figured out and all this will be behind me. I'll have energy, and see things in color, and I won't have this weight in my head.”

My Death just smiles. “What makes you think you're going to get over this?”

“Listen, I kind of think you're right half the time. But the stuff you're spewing makes me uncomfortable, so you know what? I'm not going to listen to it.”

I stand up on my seventh try.

Get a drink of water.

Go to bed.

And even though my death doesn't stop screaming at me for a single minute until I finally make it to sleep, I feel the tiniest bit alive.