I remember when, not so very long ago, an hour was a lifetime and a day eternity. I never knew if I would survive even just ten minute’s time.
It is so difficult to describe and even more excruciating to experience, when you know that logically, time will pass, minutes to hours and hours to days. But you still feel that death is a welcomed friend.
Your whole body aches in the most oppressive way, consumed by fire and ice, every follicle raised up and enraged, crying out for what’s been deprived.
And you only want to die.
You wish every hit would be your last, but each blast is further from the hit that wrapped its wickedness around every single molecule of what used to be you.
Everything inside you screams and claws, thrashes violently for only just a little piece, exactly what it needs, to quench the thirst, calm the nerves, satiate the beast.
It never ends. You beg for your death and you either get what you wish or you quit. That is the real life of the living dead.
©2017 Erin Shearer