A/n: Hey. I'm revamping this story. I honestly have no idea how anyone managed to read this. When I reread this I was wincing every two seconds. Hopefully it is better. I know there probably are some glaringly obvious mistakes left in there that I'm blind to but I've done my best reproofing. Maybe in nine months time the history book on the shelf will be repeating itself and I'll be doing this again. I'm keeping the first version of this but I'm going to put is as chapter two. If anyone wants they can read that.


It is strange not being able to hear the cars or see the rubbish-strewn streets. This place doesn't seem to be a part of the world like it is a separate place and everyday life is far away and minor. This is what a deserted tropical island must feel like.

Massive palm trees sway in the cool breeze. I have never seen a palm tree out of TV before I came here. The moon hangs on an invisible thread and stars dot the inky black sky.

To some it might be a romantic setting. They weren't beacons of romance or hope but rather a reminder morning light is far away.

The oddest thing is the lack of people. There is no human noise or laughter. It is devoid of mankind, until morning at least. Then darkness will surrender it's grip. Everything feels so magical and mysterious.

That is why I got out of my warm bed and walked down the rough path to the beach. That is why I'm crossing the beach. During the day the tiny grains of sand are golden and warm. The grains are immortal. How could they die if they never lived? The same could be said about people, who lives their life to the full? How many opportunities are turned down in a lifetime due to fear, selfishness and hate?

Everything has a reason but that doesn't interest me, death does. It surrounds us, compressing us into tiny shapes like the grains of sand, which are eroded by time. We live just to die. Everyone is obsessed with death. They fear and crave it; they dread and long for it. There are theories and suggestions but none of them are right. People try to discover the secret to immortality, to live forever. Nature has already discovered it. The sand we walk over everyday is mocking us, knowing that it will be around long after we're going and they'll be there in the end. Without mystery what is the point of life? Death. Why do we live? To die. Dying is an endless cycle of living. My only option is to die so that I can live.

I step into the freezing ocean. Water swirls around my ankles. Already I can feel the current tugging at me, trying to drown me. I don't fight it. Instead I embrace it and go out deeper, past my knees, my waist and up to my neck.

Soon my head is no longer above the water. I am trapped at a point of no return. I'm dying but if to die is to live, then I'm living. Death is easy to escape but I cannot escape the burden of life, it will always follow me.

I don't see the darkness of the water, I don't feel it's crushing weight, I can't hear the roaring of waves breaking, I do not take my last breath because it is already taken. I do not see a light and no angel flies down from heaven. I fall into black oblivion. I am dead.

It seems even I am wrong about death. Death cannot be compared to anything in the world. It is so much more yet so much less. If life is a two dimensional picture then death is 3-D. The flat page is life and the box, death. No angels or clouds, there is no burning pits of lava and fire. Time has no meaning I merely exist.

The sun climbs the sky. People awaken and go about their lives unaware of my epiphany about death in death. Nothing has changed. They don't know or care that I've passed on. People are still ignorant to the truth. The only difference is I'm not there. The world hasn't changed much without me. Maybe if I had not spend so much of my life searching for something invisible, chasing my shadow I would have made an impact of the world but I was to caught up in death. Maybe I should have tried living a bit more. It's to late now.