Alice's Note

  Death is an art, and I, it’s painter. Art is always judged, and let’s face it. It’s so much easier to sit there and judge the art instead of looking at it through the artist’s eyes and finding its unique beauty. 

  Life is a story, with a beginning, middle, and end. When we are young, stories always have happy endings. The prince gets the princess, the beast gets the beauty, everyone is happy. Lately, after spending so much time in the library, I found out that stories no longer have happy endings. I always wished my story would end happily, after hard times, I would win. I would get my prince and my happy ending. But I ended up being my own villain, I am the beast, not the beauty.

  My storybook started out strong, sharp, and new. My pages thick and my words clear on the fresh pages. But after people read my story, they got scared. The ripped my pages and smudged my print. My storybook fell apart, while the people that loved me  desperately tried to fix it, the people that didn’t tore it apart. It was unfix-able.

  Death is an art, and I it’s painter. I did this to escape judgement, to permanently fix my story and give it the ending everyone has been waiting for. They didn’t bother to look through my eyes and find the beauty in my art. It’s not your fault. I chose to end my story this way. I have one question though, if death is an art, isn’t suicide?

Author's Note

I wrote this a little while ago, i have to admit its not my best work but im curious to what peoples reactions will be?? Feed back please!!