To Sleep Eternally

I was writing about life, about how my life is going, and all I could think of was wishing for death.

I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to hurt others.

I want to sleep eternally.

So as to not have to worry about tomorrow
So as to not have to worry about being left behind
So as to not have to worry about being forgotten
Just to forget myself, let myself go to the inhibitions of death, to the “welcome home” banner that waits for me in my grave because once there I will be Home.

To sleep eternally would mean no more sadness: no more great joys,
no more great loves, and most importantly,
no more being so sad when all those great things
are inevitably and undoubtedly
stripped away without notice.

No more surprises; I would not expect love to find me anymore.
No more tears; I would not expect love to escape me anymore.
No more anguish or pain; I would not expect anything aside from peace, just a beautiful rest.

Wouldn’t that be great?

If I were to die today, right now, I now I’d leave behind all the ones I love, but what does it matter when the one I love the most cannot even bare to look at me?
I have done him wrong.

And I am so sorry.
But what is the point of my hopelessly romantic existence if there is no hopeful romance? I have always given myself entirely to Love, broken down my barriers and revealed the most innocent, the most vulnerable “me”: The ‘me’ that only desires to be loved forever and ever.

But every time I have done that, I have been left with less and less of myself.

If I were to sleep forever and ever, love would be a concept unknown, just An ideal bound to something beyond my dreams, so that it would not matter for in my dreams it would not exist, and I could finally be at peace.
Oh, Love, how great you’ve been,
but how vicious and merciless as well.
You just enjoyed sucking the life right out of me,
didn’t you?