Into the Abyss

Into what seems like an endless wishing well, though quite the contrary, I can feel my heavy body weightlessly drifting down hastily, as if it were excited to reach it's next destination. I've been falling for so long, so long, that's why I feel weightless now. Gravity has a different feel to it when you're feet haven't touched a solid thing in what seems like days.
The darkness, I can smell it. It's pungent aroma of blackest sin, innocent blood, and agonizing tears. It's pungent odor permeates my nostrils with anguish. The sound? A white noise that floods my ear drums, rattling through my scrambled brains. Faintly in the background are the horrified screams of people I might have once known and people I never will. The sinister laughter of a sinister being, neither man nor beast, and groans filling what is obviously silence. Droning groans of pain, and pleasure, and finally I hear the final breaths of a thousand innocent lives that perished too soon. The darkness I see is only that; darkness.
How can one even describe what is going through the head of someone who has been falling down for days maybe even weeks? Well, I ask you, what hasn't? I'm done panicking. It will do nothing to help me, much less comfort me. I have thought of my sweet love, the light in my eyes, and how only weeks prior he broke my heart. I have pondered of course "Where am I going?" in all facets of questioning. "Hell? Heaven? China?" but pondering will do me no good either. I think now of how adventurous this has become. In the event that I survive my landing, I have come to hope that I wind up in a magical place like Alice in Wonderland or something along those lines. I've also thought "Will I even land?" Who's to say that I'm not caught in a never ending fall? No one can say.

I'm not leaving a whole lot behind. A couple friends I seldom see anyway, an ex-boyfriend that nearly drove me to suicide, a father I've always hated, and a loving mother that I am sorry to abandon. I was never understood and I was mostly fine with that except on some occasions where kids my age were completely malicious toward me. Soon enough I remembered that it was just because I was different, too special for them. You see, I was going to be an artist. I'm not cut out for much else. I've always been different and I like that about me. People notice me, unless I'm sad in which case I am extremely unnoticeable due to my suspended consciousness and introspective jaunts of self hatred. Memories are all I have now, so I remember everything I can, but things are getting fuzzier and fuzzier. I have nothing else to do...but remember. there's nothing else that I own.

I'm just so tried though. I can't even remember if I've slept at all. My eyes...they're so heavy. This feeling...is so lulling.
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