The blood of life by Julie Vasseur

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No point in you resisting, for their strength is at a peak. They'll get
you when you least expect, they know when it's your turn, to go up to your happiness, or to
go down there and burn. Down there you cannot smile, up there you cannot frown. You can
go for miles, to go down there and drown. I am not in heaven, nor am I in hell. I am in my
crypt on Earth, my mind is quite unwell. I live my life in pain. I live my life in fear. For my
turn with the dice, is coming very near. The dice tear me apart, each and every day. They
know I can't withstand, them tearing at me this way. Tearing through the skin and bones,
that keeps all away. In my binding crypt here, forever I will lay.
I stop writing for a moment as I realize that I should relax my wrists. I look back at
what I had just written, and It just stands out to me, almost calling me. It's a masterpiece
of the heart. I turn away from the page and turn to face the window. It‘s starting to get
dark, so I flip to a new page, and continue writing.
* This is what I feel. I can't explain it. It keeps rushing through my mind, like an
ongoing river, crashing into everything in it's path, erasing everything. I can't think
anymore, and everything that I attempt now, just, fails. Everything around me is dieing, and
there is nothing I can do to stop it. It's almost like I'm cursed, an evil child of a murderous
god. Maybe I should join them, to roll the dice of fate, and accept what is coming to me. I
don't know what to do. I have no one to talk to. My life is pointless, an empty vessel just
taking up space in the world of life. What should I do? What would my parents do...*
I stop writing, and turn my face to the window once again. The moon is shining
brightly, as if trying to bring some sign of hope into my life. As soon as that thought pops
up in my mind, A giant cloud covers it, like a hand crushing the poor moth trapped inside. I
look over at the clock, and to my amazement, it's quarter past one in the morning. I walk
over to the bathroom, and open up the cabinet. Inside lies a pair of my mother's sewing
scissors, small, yet sharp enough to cut through anything. "Even skin." The words whisper
out of my mouth before I even realize what I've said. Before more crazy thoughts could
enter my head, I slammed the cabinet door shut, ran back into my bedroom and crawled
under the cover of my bed. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, as if it will open up and show
me the answers to my problems. Eventually I fell into a restless and terrifying sleep.
***
"Water, so much water. Drowning. I'm drowning. Help! Someone help me!
AAHHH!" THUD! My eyes open immediately as I look around my room. The raging rapids of
rancid water had disappeared, and instead of being dragged under by the rushing tide, I
had just fallen off of my bed. I sat up straight, still on the cushioned floor, and tried to
remember. Remember, something. Something that I knew would be very important, and
that could help me find out, find out what I had to do.
Then, with a final look around, I knew what I had to do.