No more dancing. No more words. I want to die.
I see nothing left to live for in this world. Which isn't to say there's none -- it's just that I seem to be unable to find one for myself strong enough to keep me together, and I am exhausted. This world has me trapped; I have nowhere to go. My prison is a vast expanse of words and concrete, of people and stones -- without sound, without shape, without walls, but a prison none the less. It is terrifying to say the least, but I am done fighting. I am done moving.
And it's not mere death that I'm craving, too. I want to be forgotten. I want every trace of my existence erased from the histories of this world. No one will remember my face, nor say my name ever again. That is the kind of death I am wishing for -- not the shallow death of earth and ash, of pain and remembering. Because being forgotten is the only true, pure way to die.
