dead man's tales (tw)

I often think of the phrase, "Dead man tell no tales..." but I do not find that to be true. The tales the dead tell, are the best tales. They are whispered around the bones, picked up by the living, and thus spread to our ears. If you listen, really listen, you can hear the tales and songs hummed from around. Even in silence, there is a story being told, a whisper left unanswered. Yet blame it on mortal limitations that their cries are left unheard. But there is one story, spoken and told from the dead. A tale that I shall tell you, in hopes that the dead won't die alone. Thus I introduce to you, The Story of How I Died. I don't remeber the month, and I vaguely remeber the year. But I know it was a Wednesday that my soul was laid to rest. I only remeber the day because every Wednesday there is a church service, and I was attending it that day. My cousin, who lives just a state away, was up and visiting. As the guest pastor, he sat next to my grandfather, and I must admit I do not think that I was listening to their sermon. I was lost in my own thoughts, envisioning my plan for the night. For I knew it was my last. I was so set on it, and I knew exactly how I was going to go about it. Thus eventually, when the service ended, I said my goodbyes. My cousin only just thought I was saying goodbye for the night, my grandparents assuming the same. But with each hug and kiss goodbye, I felt the hole in my heart grow bigger. At the time, I didn't think I was selfish. But looking back I realized, I had been a selfish person all my life, and maybe it was deserving that I died alone. But regardless, as blind as I was to the love around me, I felt untouched. I was cradled with love but the ice on my heart left my body frozen, not thawing to the love around me. I saw what I wanted to see, felt what I wanted to feel. And so, I went home, numb and hopeless. I said goodnight and went to my room and I waited. Waiting until I could hear my mom snoring, until I could hear the house whispering it's dreams. I knew everyone was asleep, and I knew I could do it. I'd envision it countless times, I would go downstairs with nothing but myself and a knife. I would open the front door and sit on the front steps, not caring to close the door behind me. And thus I would listen to the heartbeat of the world, and I would listen as my faded. Even in my vision, I saw the flashing lights of redemption. As much as they tried, I was too far gone. Too far dead. My heartbeat would sing no songs, and my breath would have been frozen just before it hit the air. I would be dead and nothing could have stopped it. And though, this never happened, I am certain that as soon as I envisioned my death, that was when I truly died. My soul forever gone, leaving me to wonder the earth in this shell of a body.