Her eyes are tightly shut, her breathing is fast and short and as she fights the clogged phlegm in her throat to inhale a little more air, her breathing stops completely and for those five precious seconds, she is peaceful; not writhing in pain nor gasping for air. But there is a fine line between dying and living. It is a disconcerting stench that is both stale and sweet but would eventually rot to a sour reek, and all that sweetness that once was would become untouchable, only a thing of the past that you could never smell again, no matter how much you wanted to.
She hasn't been able to speak in weeks, we don't even know if she understands what is going on. But when the decision came to make or break her torment, we put a tube in her throat instead, so that she might breathe longer, but now her breaths are becoming harder and harder to make, her heart weaker and weaker with every beat, her muscles and limbs losing sensation and control. Everything is falling apart in her, and everything in him is falling apart along with her. How do you watch the one you love slip away and slowly wither to nothingness? By sitting at her bed every single waking hour and holding her hand and talking to her, of course. Is there any way to stop this, without feeling like you chose to kill her but not having to watch her struggle so badly?
As I stand there and watch her. For those 5 seconds that she breathes, she shakes with pain and agony but she is alive. For the next 5 seconds that she stops breathing, she is still, peaceful and undisturbed. Does life need to be so hard? Perhaps death is another form of living, and when she finally takes the last tortured breath of this current physical form, her heart will beat anew to a better being, away from us.
``larcenciel
Music: Rest in Pieces - Revolutionary Girl Utena OST Mood: Sad