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Uploaded on Nov 22, 2008

This is my Response to Ellie's Challenge

Warning: This video contains subject matter that may not be suitable for all audiences. Meaning, it has stuff about suicide. So Keep that in mind.

To Exist By Jessica M.

She stood in the shadows. Its where she normally stands to wrestle with the convictions that plague theyre way through her mind. Its pretty hard most days to make sense of whats going through her. Are they really her emotions or feelings from another space and time all together. A dislocation of memory from who she really is, or how everyone seems to see her. A tiny part of her dies as she realizes that there are times when she cant even piece together what or whom she really is inside. That she might just be mirrored facets of a soul that reflects outward what should be inward. The frailty of the situation has afforded no clarity to what it really should be. What she really should be. Just a sense of heaviness that weighs down each moment of a pale shadow of existence. For thats all it really is isnt it? Existence. Not living but breathing. Just cells replicating and blood flowing. Just a random mass of matter and molecules. Its a wonder that we are alive really. But most days we just dont notice. She notices, and it weighs her down so incredibly. It all feels too heavy.
She raises the piece of cold steel to her temple and feels the weight in her hand. Not just the weight of the killing instrument in her hand but the shear weight of the lack of reason and rhyme that this is really taking. The pain would go away but at what cost? The pain of the others would most likely reach her either at the next plane of existence or in the next life. Is that really something that she could handle? No of course not. For their pain was something shed try at all cost to avoid. But as a blank void of a person, could she really continue lying to them in such a way. No. Freedom is the only option worth taking at this point, because the lack of such a gift is killing her. Its like being trapped in a closet. You tend to run out of air after the first few hours, let alone twenty-two years. Twenty-two years of being crammed in someone else version of what you need. She needs to breathe but the air wont come. Its too dark and musty. The gun is too familiar in her hands. The moment, too intense. The hammer pulled back into a loaded moment. The trigger, poised to click all the pain into oblivion. The over-dramatic sense of the situation makes her laugh inside because its all really some big joke. The Powers that Be must have a strange sense of humor because this all just seems to funny. A hysterical moment of breaking into pieces and knowing that today isnt really the day for all this. Open the door and stare at the sun or the clouds or the rain, and shell breathe again. Like she always does, for someone else. Perhaps one of these days, itll be for herself but until then, shell have to exist. One day, it might be different. Those broken pieces of soul might just transform into a window to look out from. To open up and take in the sweet breeze that is life. To finally breathe it and fill her lungs with the delicious essence of peace. It might not be today but someday.

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