Loneliness kills

It's day, I don't even know of loneliness. I don’t remember what people look like. I can’t picture the shape of anyone’s face but mine and I can’t remember any other sound but the one of my own voice. I went to the lake today. When I peered down at my reflection, I was angry. I hated the person staring back at me and I didn’t want to look at him but he is the only human being I have seen in years and looking at him, however angry it makes me, fills me with some sort of comfort that I cannot find anywhere else. It has been nineteen years since I last felt the touch of another person. I barely even knew her. We were dancing together at the bar down the street from where my house once stood and I asked to buy her a drink because my friend dared me to. She had long red hair and pretty green eyes and I remember those two characteristics vividly. She told me her name but I can't say I remember. We danced for what felt like forever and the music was the sweetest sound and I couldn’t hear anything other than the smooth tune of whatever song was playing and the sound of my blood racing through my veins. The last thing I remember was waking up that next morning to the sounds of sirens and screaming and then my house collapsed before my very eyes and I just ran until I couldn’t see anything familiar anymore. That was the last day of ordinary I can remember. If I had known that stranger’s touch would be my last, I would have held on just a bit longer. 

This morning was the same as any morning I had known for the past two decades. I woke up and went to the lake where I stared at my reflection and hated what I saw and then I went to gather some fruits that I secretly hoped were poison because I’m not sure I can take another day of being alone. It’s about noon now, I’d say. I don’t have any working clocks but the position of the sun tells me it won’t be dark for another few hours. The sound of the bird’s song above makes me sick because they are oblivious that the human race is gone and that these events that are causing me to plummet into a pit of insanity each and every moment. I find a large rock on the edge of the river bank and I draw a face on it with mud and I talk to it and in my mind, it is talking back to me. It tells me about it’s day even though the only thing that it has done today was be created by an insane man who misses affection. When I ask the rock if I'll ever meet another human again, it doesn’t answer so I get angry and throw it into the lake. I immediately regret this and I find myself jumping in after it to rescue this object that does not possess consciousness or feelings or thoughts and now I am cold. The thick black water surrounds me and I can hear only the mellow voice of the dark waves swallowing me whole but I don’t mind. I then realize that the sounds of drowning are sweeter to my ears than any sound I have heard in the past nineteen years so perhaps I am supposed to stay here. Perhaps death makes more sense than life and perhaps I am meant to die here. The thought of inhaling the thick black water that surrounds me, however comforting, I believe that there are many instantaneous ways to die. I could hang myself but there are no ropes here. I could find a blade sharp enough to end my suffering but I fear that would take too long. Then I see it. The bridge that had not yet collapsed that hangs over a large highway that has not been used in years but I think it just might be tall enough to do it. I pull myself out of the water and drag my feet towards this bridge that I hope is not a figment of my imagination because I need it to be there because I can't be lonely anymore. My trail of damp  leads behind me as if it is a path.

Standing over the vacant highway, I feel calm. I feel like I am meant to be standing here and I am meant to let the wind pull me to the sweet depths of the afterlife. I inhale the air. For the first time since I can remember, it isn’t venom. It is clean and breathable and I can feel it coursing through my lungs and back out into the sky. The leaves in the trees are waving at me, cheering me on almost. I wave back and I’m laughing and I can’t remember the last time I laughed because this feels amazing and I close my eyes and take my last breath. When I open them and lean forward, I see something. This something has long red hair and pretty green eyes and I must be dreaming. She looks to me and I stumble and lose my footing and fall back onto the bright side of the bridge. It can’t be. I am dreaming. Have I already died? Is this the entrance to the bliss of death or could my lonely suffering finally be gone? She calls to me and she looks so familiar and I am finally not alone and life has given me a second chance and I feel that feeling of safety again and I don’t have to stare at the lost soul who sits at the surface of the lake in the place where my reflection should sit because there is something new for me to stare and she is here and she has red hair and green eyes.