If Heaven Had Visiting Hours...Mature

Just an allegorical short story I wrote recently. The title is temporary and the story isn't finished yet, so I'll add more on my free time.

I've been here so long that I cannot think myself to part with you, sweet world I call life. I just can't do it. I look at myself and see what I am, remembering what I was back in my childhood. The younger years were filled with the ignorant joy that we all feel when our world is unfamiliar and new; a feeling of love for all things because our imagination runs rampant through our hearts, leaving words that soothe us into dreams of how our lives will play out as we bare a smile through it all. Our life, it is the best feeling we know, as we have not a trouble to ache us. We are in control. But as time passes we grow weary, speaking into our beloved world's eyes with closed lids because we no longer find solace in their expression. We no longer wish to look at them, nor they to us. You say you love her only to assure her that the fondness you share is still held by something, be it strong or weak, because either way, that fondness is the life support for the insomniac you call a heart. Sometimes you want to pull the plug so that maybe you can dream again without the burden of letting her stop you. So look her in the eyes and tell her you love her and that you always have, but it was for the best that you divide.

I'm truly sorry my dear world. I'll always have loved you.

I kicked the chair from beneath my feet, hanging by the rope around my throat. I felt it tighten until my lungs became warm from the absence of cool breath and my eyes fell shut as though I were falling asleep. Soon, all was dark and my body fell limp.

I woke to a bright room.

The End

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