I’m surrounded by everyone I’ve ever met, and we’re standing on the fragile glass of my hopes, dreams, future, and who I want to be. Underneath us are the sharpened spikes of insecurity, failing, and loneliness. But they don’t bother me that much because everything is balanced. It’s like everyone is my safety net. The whole situation feels like home. Suddenly, a few people start to blur, then disappear. I look back into the crowd and realize it’s only people who haven’t impacted me that left, and all those that own a part of my heart and past stand proud. My friends flicker, and then reappear right in front of me. In their hands are daggers, with different points and handles and blades, all uniquely their own. It was almost as if their personalities bled into the daggers and left their bodies to be the holders.
They stabbed them into my feet, and the blades sliced through my skin and shoes easily, causing pools of blood to cascade out. The tips were lodged through my bone and into the ground, trapping me there. At first I barely noticed; just hear the snapping of bone and the thunk as the blades were embedded in the glass, creating hairline fractures. But then a violent pain shot up from what was left of my feet, causing me to want to sink to my knees. But I couldn’t, without hurting any more. I cried out to the other people still left for help. Though, only the ones who pinned my feet moved, and that was into the blank nothingness everyone that disappeared had.
Next my family approached me, from my parents to my grandparents to my great uncles to my little cousins, all armed with sharp objects. I saw rusty nails, shards of glass, razors, etc. gleaming cruelly in their hands. They all rushed me, shredding my skin and cutting as deep as my veins. Blood seemed to stream down from one cut to another, coating me in the warm, sticky, wretched smelling liquid. I screamed out in pain but no one left in the crowd was fazed. No matter how hard I struggled, I ended up getting hurt; whether it was from the daggers in my feet or the slicing of my flesh. Tears streamed down my face and my throat ached with hoarseness. Yet no one would help me.
My best friends strode behind me, poison-tipped metal darts in their hands. With throw, the pain wracking through my body amplified to where I was begging for any sort of release. I hadn’t noticed before, but with each step someone took, the hair-line fractures in my hopes, dreams, future, and who I want to be grew deeper and larger. I scrambled for anything to do to get out of the situation but nothing would come. Everyone faded away, except for two.
“Please… please no…” With each beat, my heart broke even further. And the pain hurt even worse. One stood behind me, the other in front. We were treading on glass as thin as ice, and it cracked more little by little. At the same time, they lifted their swords and plunged them into my chest, turning them opposite ways and churning my heart into mush. I finally collapsed just as they faded away, and the glass dug into me as I fell through it. For a second, every song lyric that had ever helped me get through something held me up… but it faded away, sending me plunging towards the spikes. As I fell, my soul escaped my body, so I was forced to watch me tumble unnaturally. The image of the tip of the spike sticking up from my rib-cage was burned into my mind forever. And the most disturbing part was the small, sweet smile on my face, with the blood trickling out of my mouth.
But that wasn’t bad enough. I had to watch everyone I thought loved me, cared for me, or needed me in some way move on and become happier without me. Like I was just a burden on everyone. The world seemed more peaceful, the colors more vibrant, and everyone seemed happier all the time. And I was required to sit there and watch. To see them die without having any regret. With the same sick smile on their faces, just without the blood.