Dying would only hurt your memories. Your legacies were more than death. I can’t think like that because it’d be damaging your presence when you were here on earth. The pain must be felt. The disappointment must be had. The hurt feels so strongly that it will never cease. Everything grows in the worst way. Thorns everywhere. Nothing to comfort. Nothing to feel sorry for. Just wishing you could shake yourself. Grab yourself by the shoulders and scream..”WHY AREN’T YOU BETTER THAN THIS?!” But it’s impossible to. And you will cry. Puddles on the table in front of you. In front of others. But death would be in front of them. Those you regard so highly. Those who died too soon. You can’t. That is why I can’t…THEY are why I can’t.