More of Me

An excerpt from my journal:

Sitting here in the early morning, I can see the grass covered with dewdrop frosting. There is just a slight chill in the air...enough to make it pleasant to be outside. I want to go lie on the grass and stretch out my body and be covered with glistening diamond dew. Then the cold drops will seep into my skin.

First my fingers and toes will feel it - they will grow cold and slowly become numb. Then the cold will move to my arms and legs and my neck. It will keep advancing to my back and my stomach and breasts. Then it will start crawling inside and, maybe, if I lie very still and wait long enough it will reach the deepest place in my heart and it will stop there.

The cold will settle in and become comfortable and grow and spread until I can't even tell how numb I am. When you're numb you can't feel anything so I will just be numb. It won't hurt. And no one will be able to see it. The cold dew will be buried deep inside - protecting me from everything that tries to make its way in. I won't be sad - how can you be sad when you're numb?

This is what would happen if I went to lie in the grass and dew. But instead, I write in this book and cry.