She Who Loves Death ✓COMPLETE

Prologue

SHE WHO LOVES DEATH

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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©MadamKlara

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She gets herself a ton of sleep, hoping she wouldn't wake up the next day. While others are hopeful about the future and excited about fulfilling their dreams, she only wants her life to end. If true love breaks in, will she eventually want to keep breathing—no, living? Or would she remain the girl who loves death?

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Louisse Shalom Grace

Hi. Welcome to the 689th day of Louie's damned life of boredom, misery and nothing significant.

Tsk. How pathetic. I can't believe I am still able to open my eyes because I remember vividly that I hoped last night to be sent to a pilgrim of never-ending sleep, as I always do. Feeling the ray of light passing through the window pane, I guess, I still didn't get lucky to have that wish come true.

After gruelingly shutting off the noisy alarm tone, I leisurely crawl off the bed and head straight to the shower. As soon as the cold water begins dripping on my skin, I see sleep separating from my senses and I totally feel awake, at least, physically. Emotionally and mentally, geez, I am not. My mind has been somewhere else for a year, ten months and twenty days and it's still out there, no plans coming back to me in full function and utility. 

Have you ever felt so empty that you think there is barely nothing inside of you except for water, oxygen or empty space which also means thousands of thousands worth of precious metals and elements, all to keep your human frame intact? You do get me, don't you? I mean, I know what I am made of but I don't see the bigger picture here—the quintessence of life or your purpose as what prominent self-help authors encourage us to find or the ambition of what you'd like to become in the future which your grade school teachers asked you about. Sometimes, most of the time... Okay, all the fxcking time, I don't know what I am doing with my life. I go to school, come home straight after when I don't plan getting myself lost in a very small park that a preschooler would easily be familiarized with or be stranded in the crowded open field in the campus, get tons of sleep when I don't feel taking my meals, and then wake up for another day of bullshit doing the same boring routine.

If only death is a friend, my life would be better.