ELTHAM HIGH SCHOOL ANTHOLOGY   

I am dying.

I know that I am. I have been dying for years, but now I can feel the end drawing near. I have long come to terms with my premature death-to-be. I am a bit disappointed that my life won’t be as long as those of other people, even though I was the one who caused this long, slow decline. Despite that, I would not have wished that I’d lived the life I had any other way. Lots of people say they wanted to do more, see more, live more, to make up for the time they’ll lose. I don’t feel that need. I am satisfied with the slice I have had from the cake of life. My soul is nothing but content, and I will gladly let it sprout wings and fly beyond the horizon and into the next world, should there be such a realm. If it encounters storms on its journey then it will ride over them with ease, being too pure to be touched by Mother Earth’s wrath. It will soar past the sky, up to the gates of heaven...

But I digress. I don’t even know if souls exist, let alone if there is any type of afterlife or heaven. Once, before I started this deterioration, I dreamt that I knew I was going to die. I lay on a makeshift bed with my family moving around me all day, just waiting to die. I wasn’t unhappy about it for I longed to know what would happen when I did die: if my conscience would begin anew with no memories in a baby, or go to some afterlife, or simply be snuffed out of existence. I went to sleep that night in the dream expecting to not wake up, but wake up I did. I was still alive, though I was sure that I should have died by then.

Now, all these years later, I wonder if it was a premonition of this day – well, obviously not this day, for if my dream is now reality I won’t die until tomorrow at the earliest, but at least a glimpse of this time in my shortened life. I definitely wasn’t writing any note in my dream though; I’m not actually quite sure why I am writing this. I guess I feel the need to tell someone about how dying isn’t a bad thing. I feel freer than ever. I don’t have to worry about worldly concerns anymore. When I am finally released from this prison of society I will gladly shed the manacles which have held me for so long in favour of the reins of eternal sleep.

I suppose what I am trying to tell you, dear reader, is to not mourn for those you will leave behind, and to not be concerned about what may lie ahead. Perhaps you think me a sentimental fool, but please believe me when I tell you that you are special, and incredible, and amazing in ways you have never even thought of. No matter what you have gone through, no matter what hardships you’ve suffered, never forget the good times. Remember when you laughed just because you could and you weren’t even able to stop when you had no air left in your lungs. Remember those summer days spent outside, feeling the friendly warmth of the sun on your face and not letting anything bother you because you were enjoying simply being. That is what’s truly special. Maybe you don’t realise it yet, but you will someday, I guarantee you.

I feel too weak to continue writing for much longer, though I still have much to say. I wish I could end this with some kind of deep, philosophical remark, but I’m afraid complex ideas have always been beyond me. Just… be happy. For me. Please.

This is me, signing off at the end of my shortened but no less remarkable life.

Now, at last, I can be truly at peace.