Mature Warning: Suicide themeThis poem/short story is in response to
this article, about a girl who chose to die in the Netherlands, in a legally approved assisted suicide.
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Before and AfterDark, so dark. The darkness pressed in on all sides of her, suffocating her, crushing her.
Her terror and despair mingled and burst forth in dry sobs, the pillow muffling her cries.
She felt nothing but terror at the life to come.
Even the daytime was dark, the light locked out by heavy blinds. The knock at the door was timid. She ignored it.
The door opened softly; the woman placed a covered tray on the bedside table and quietly left. She ignored that, too.
The smell of the food never reached her.
She could feel herself growing weaker. She welcomed it. She had long since written her goodbyes.
Her mother's worry never reached her. Love was letting go, she said.
Love was letting go, she thought. She did not love herself, and so she was letting go.
Perhaps when she shed this dirty body, she would finally feel free.
The end. She felt nothing, her body long since numb to the pain.
She looked down at it, the stick-like arms and legs, the bones showing through. She felt nothing.
She could hear her mother's cries.
She almost felt nothing; the brief pang of regret dissipated quickly.
Dark again. The darkness pressed in on all sides of her, suffocating, crushing her.
Her terror and despair mingled but the dirt stifled her cries.
She felt nothing but terror at the life to come.
