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Reflections

Reflections: Death

I walked into his room and saw him with his eyes closed. I instantly broke into tears. He didn't look alive and that alone had me on my knees in front of his hospital bed, weeping like he had left me right in front of my eyes. I felt selfish in that moment and helpless like a greedy fool that eats in front of starving children.
In that moment, i myself died a little that night.

I was in battle and facing death head on: my life .vs. me.
I had never killed anyone, nor have i raped a girl. To this very day i've never robbed a bank or stabbed anyone. I am a good person and not to blame for these wicked acts of cruel intentions.
That night something inside of me was getting swollen, as i reflected on my life through the window of my soul. My tears, like a torrential thunderstorm, whipping the pain of my window as i try to break the swelling of my pride.
My only line of defense against me is the sense that i'm not half as bad as this friend of mine, so i must be fine. This arrogance invades my ears and out of my mouth a smirk is purged because i mean well...don't I? Yet i've never seen good intentions set a man free, from hurt.
I choose to live my life in constant fear. I've watched myself tear myself apart with this fear. This fear, is me. It roars that I have back-stabbed a friend, stolen from a friend, watched pornography, and tried to destroy a spirit.
Blameless? I think not. I am to blame, I am human...no one is good, not even one.
We, our poor unfortunate souls filling a single void with toy after toy, girl after boy, drink after drink. How boring, this wasn't meant to be humanity's life story.
Bought, all...
Hanging out for six hours, marred beyond recognition in complete submission to the Father's will. Still a proclamation was made louder than the loudest temptation, with more beauty than all of His creations. More eternal than eternity and more angelic than the heavenly. It is done. We have been bought with blood; except and rejoice for freedom has come.
I woke up in a puddle from tears that night, still on the floor in front of his bed.
I stood up and saw his pale and fragile body enveloped in hospital blankets. His eyelids overwhelmed by deaths congeal.
Two people died that night.
He died of alcohol poisoning and i...i died to myself.

Learn more about this author, Stephen Graham.
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