Life and death can be very thought out words, and they have two completely different meanings. So far in my life, death is the outcome you get for entering life. It slowly creeps upon us, even if we’re not scared of it. It will strike at the most unexpected and unwanted moments. Even if we don’t want to die, death somehow finds us. When people ask me “which would you choose? Life or death?” I would honestly say it doesn’t matter to me, simply because they both seem to have the same intentions. I am not scared of my life’s ending instead I am scared of what will become of my life when it is over. I’m scared of my heart putting itself back together, and I don’t understand why. Life can leave you with nothing but lies, regrets, and crashing memories. Life has left me with skin that glitters as if it were ice because I have lost all my color. I have one hand in my back pocket while the other grasps tightly to my belt to keep me from slipping away from the world. Everything should be quite alright as long as I keep in this sheltered life. I’m scared to walk the streets alone because of the darkness on the street floors. I wish for the unimaginable to happen. I dream of the world and how it can just end at any moment, how the grounds of this earth can simply start to crumble at my feet. When I awake, I feel like no one can hear my puddle of tears dripping to the floor. As I rock myself back and forth on the side of my bed, I wish for something more in life. I get dizzy and I see butterflies around me fluttering, lifting me up. I hear the waves of an ocean that want me to fly away from the world. Then I realize I am still sitting alone on my bed, in this unwanted spot, and this unwanted world. The first time in my life that I actually felt wanted by something, which I actually felt good about and then it is gone. This is where I fall the hardest; this is where I can’t get up. In this bed I will sit alone because everyone else is gone. This is where I sit to think, I think about the little things in life that make it great and all the bad things too. I wouldn’t ever change a thing about this life because maybe in so strange way I might end up happy. I might end up somewhere that I am actually supposed to be. Happiness is just an Allusion though an allusion I can not see, and for some strange reason I am scared to see. Yes, scared to be happy. Once you’re happy it’s easier to become sad and then hurts when you’re happy again. So who really needs happiness in this world of hate and evil? When you can simply feel nothing and just be content with the life you live. I’d rather be content with my life when I die, instead of being sad or just happy. Being content is like being okay with everyone around you, not just okay with one or two things, but everything. To me that’s the perfect place to be.