part 6:
death comes for all
CHAPTER 1
There comes a point where survival becomes a form of surrender.
Not the kind that waves a white flag,
but the kind that whispers:
“I’m tired.”
Tired of burying versions of myself.
Tired of pretending I hadn’t already died
a thousand quiet deaths long before now.
You don’t notice when it first arrives.
Death is subtle.
It creeps in like routine.
Like forgetting the sound of your own laugh.
Like skipping meals because you just don’t care.
But eventually, it announces itself.
Not in thunder.
Not in fire.
But in stillness.
That stillness became my prison.
And I lived in it like a ghost.
Not entirely here, not entirely gone.
People talked about hope like it was a faucet
you could turn back on.
But hope, for me,
had become like muscle memory—
I could pretend to move like I used to,
but nothing responded.
CHAPTER 2
Even my dog grew older,
weaker,
and tired…
The last piece of innocence I had left—
began to fade in front of my eyes,
but I was too far gone to realize it.
I was too consumed with grief
to give him the love he deserved.
He looked at me with those eyes,
like he knew he was slipping away
and I wasn’t coming with him.
I didn’t see it coming.
I didn’t know.
I hated myself for losing that time.
For not seeing the writing on the wall.
Death doesn’t just take the body.
It takes the will.
The presence.
The fire.
And I had nothing left to burn.
But somehow…
I didn’t go.
Not all the way.
Maybe it was cowardice.
Maybe it was divine.
Maybe it was something else entirely.
It came to me in a flash –
not even on a special day or time.
I didn’t die that night in 2019.
CHAPTER 3
I made a new vow:
If Death wanted me,
it would have to fight harder.
Because if I had to stay here,
I was going to start making it count.
And that’s when the fire started to return.
Not a blaze.
Not yet.
Just a spark.
But even the smallest flame
can light the way.
Even for the dead.