Another SHE if you may. Although a little more vague. A little less profound. And farther away from reality.
As I lay there on the low-lying mattress on the spring bed, the kinds you find in a dormitory, flashes of my life, rapid and vivid and painful memories, the kind that life can be summed up in swam through my mind. This was the perfect death. Ideal. Blissful. And in the pain I lay. He was there. And she held my hand. They were there too, but in the background, almost hidden from view. But I could see them. They would never escape from me. Not even now when it was because of them that I lay there bleeding to death. And suddenly, it all didn't matter. It was like a force so mighty I cannot possibly express in words, snatched from me my power. My medium of defense. My body. I was there. But I was not. I was stuck in a place where time seemed not to exist and nothing felt real but my own presence. It was a vacuum of nothingness. No color, no sound, nothing but the echo of a distant body that you could safely assume was my soul. The very core of my being. And what was I to do now? Sit and wait? For i wouldn't know how long I would wait. But waiting seemed like all I could do. Everything was now nothing. No hint of a step, no sign of life. This was what happened then, wasn't it? When you died? You were reduced to this immovable, hollow, immeasurable thing. Nothing existed in this world. Although it would be incorrect to call this place a world. It was more like a singular intangible existence without purpose nor meaning. Just there. Waiting to be discovered and moved. An endless wait. That's all.
I really need to move on to happier phases of writing. Nonsensical, thoughtless and morbid writing never did any good.