Weeds

She stood to her feet. It seemed as if she was trying to keep quiet, even though she was the only living soul in the house. Everybody else had passed on. She was used to being alone, but for some reason this time was different. Not only had the people left her, but also the ghosts in her walls. She once was able to feel comfort in the air but this time she felt absolutely nothing. She slowly walked towards the door that led to a beautiful garden. It was there that she then planted her feet for the next hours. She stared at the daffodils and the weeds growing around them, almost suffocating them. That's something she was able to relate to. Breathing was no longer something that put air in her lungs, but just something to keep her heart beating for another dreadful second. She wished that the air had poison and that it would run through her veins into her brain and into her heart, so it could all just stop. Not only her body but the pain she felt each time she opened her eyes in the morning. After every time that she had opened them she would close them again and ask herself to die. Can you please do this for me? Everything will be so much better. But it won't. She will lie dead in her garden where the birds will come to pick at her remains. Nobody wants that legacy. Alive or dead everybody wants to leave something good behind instead of being forgotten. She doesn't know that, however. She can't think that far ahead. She can't think at all. The weeds started wrapping themselves around her foot. They wanted her to stay. The garden was beautiful but the plants were evil and selfish. They didn't care for her pain and they sure as hell didn't care for her life. And there she stood, all on her own as the plants were eating her alive. There was no one to save her. And she couldn't even save herself.