and here I am, yearning for death once more, it will be beautiful

 and here I am, yearning for death once more, as if that made life more palatable...on the room next door life passes, ignorant of my absence. Sleep doesn't come easy, otherwise it would be the better alternative...you know, a suspended small death. 

I used to take sleeping pills one after the other in order to remain asleep...but the problem is that eventually you must wake up. Nevertheless, I have been way more than awoken for a good couple of years now... I finally lost the best part of me, the silly, loving one, that used to believe the world was good. Not that I think the world is bad, it isn't, it is just that it is sickly populated by human beings who starve other human beings, who kill other human beings, who ignore other human beings. I got sick. I got so very sick the last time silence was imposed as a martial law. I am still very sick, and bound to get sicker...silence thrives in this abode. 

In silence I hope to keep on sleeping for a very long time, and dream to wake up in a world where I will have no body, no needs, no one to hurt me. I am actually becoming good at that; not allowing glowing, presumptuous, arrogant creatures to hurt me. The only problem is that while I do that, 

I forget myself. 

I hide myself. 

I hide from the pain, 

from me, 

from the things around me. 

And then? 

Then, the trees do not speak to me anymore. Then, my flowers wither away. Sad with my sadness they die for me, hoping to make it better. It will be better. One day. When none of this matters anymore. When no one will find these words. When I am nothing but less than a fickle. It will be just beautiful.