I'm stitching the feathers of countless fallen angels into the thin layer of flesh that encases me.
I do believe I'm dying. Yet I'm only embracing the concept of eternity rather than shunning it.
What would it be like to die.... when you're already dead inside?
Does anything happen... Or does it all just...
Nothing within this life gives me much reason to loathe the coming silence, but rather, fill the void with a curiosity for it.
The adherence of that final breath dwelling within this skull of mine ceases to plague my thoughts with it's icy tendrils. Contorting each thought and memory into a question.
Will I miss this?
And while I have allowed myself to be consumed by the nightmares that haunt our every day. Allowing it to change me far passed any point of return.
I still can't answer it.
This existence has been nothing but one painful parody to the next. Eagerly clinging to the fraying fabrics of my life in the hopes that once I conquer this challenge I will open the doors into a better tomorrow.
Tomorrow only ever promising sleet and a dead battery.
If anything the Slender Man has given my life a purpose I wasn't certain it had.
That... will to live.
To finish something before that final breath exits my body and shuts off the lights behind him.
A mortal can only exist within a state of existence so trying for so long before finally giving in to encumbrance.
My only goal is to be holding the Slender Man's still beating heart in my bloodied hand before that time takes me.