I wake in the night.
A voice demands me to fall back to sleep,
But I don't listen.
My brain is deaf to its reasoning and logic.
I glance at my alarm clock: 12:00 am.
I smile silently to myself,
Probably for what was the last time.
I creep slowly out of bed.
I walk steadily down the hallway,
Down the stairs, feeling strangely calm.
I slip out my back door,
Onto the green grass, now black from the starless night.
A fresh, cold wind blows,
Settling on my skin, but I don't mind.
I don't bother to bring a flashlight.
My sense of direction and the darkness would guide me.
I run away from my life.
I run away to an area where no light shines.
I wait for the heavy sound of wheels against road,
And the roaring motor of the truck that goes by at this time.
I jump into the road, in front of the truck.
It strikes me hard, like bat against ball.
I feel my head slam to ground.
Dead before I'm 16. By choice.
You're alive, the voice tells me.
I'm dead, I try to convince the voice.
No, you're alive, it whispers one last time, then fades away.
I too, then fade away, though temporary.