TRIGGER WARNING!
When I’m gasping, don’t believe my body.
Tell them to not resuscitate me. Tell them : “This woman couldn’t stand living with her mind anymore, let her rest for once”.
Tell them I wanted to go.
Tell them that I have exhausted all of my anger, and all that remained was a heavy, crushing sadness.
When I die, don’t burry me. Burn my corpse by the Nile. For I want to be resurrected as ashes; grey, fragile and scattered, same way I’ve lived before.
In my funeral, don’t serve coffee or tea. Serve whiskey and wine. Maybe water. If I’m certainly going to hell, might as well let my goodbye as sinful as possible. Don’t worry, you still got time to repent.
Smoke many cigarettes in my memory. Inhale the smoke and tell me this one is for me. I promise I’ll try my best to be listening. I promise I’ll tell God about all your never coming true wishes, if I get to talk to him.
Find my diaries. They’re at the bottom of my closet, in a red Lap top bag. Burn all of them at once. There are things in them that would make my parents mad.
When I’m gone, read my poems to your friend. They’ll sound better when your friends know I’ve died. And twice as better if they know I’ve committed suicide. The self tormented artist scenario, the classic ending.
Know that if we’ve ever had a conversation, it must have meant that I loved you. Remember me as capable of love and giving. Unworthy of it.
Know that, I got so much things still unwritten. And I’ve ran out of soul to write them all down. Try writing them for me please. No pressure though.
Tell my best friends that I love them. That I’ll always love them. Always do that, for they might forget.
Believe that I must be in a better place than here. Even if I myself don’t believe it. But they say God is merciful, he might understand.
And lastly..
Be well.
Do better.
Don’t end up like me.
deepestblue12 