Teetering Over The Brink

A piece of (very short) writing displaying final thoughts and the narrator's philosophy of life.

It’s difficult to know when it’s the end. The true end I mean. When there’s no glint of hope left, or no desire to hope. I’ve been in unbearable pain, the most frustrating discomfort I’ve ever felt - tilting over the brink of life, nearly falling into deep dark death. Sometimes I’ve even welcomed it. I’ve reached out to Death’s long grasping fingers, teasing it. But somehow I’ve known it is not the end for me and that there is still warmth to be felt, tears of joy to be shed and sweet laughter to heard. 

People say fear is the only thing stronger than hope. But it is not fear of death which drove me away each time: I do not fear oblivion. Not fear, but hope - glimmering, warm hope. 

I know I haven’t led an extraordinary life. I’m not an extraordinary person and I haven’t achieved extraordinary things. But that doesn’t make me sad.There is a beauty in simplicity which is so often overlooked by those who are blinded by the bright lights of fame and fortune. I may be known by few and remembered by fewer, but I am so in love with life, laughter and love itself, and that is enough for me. 

Author's Note

I know it's not really a story, but I've never really written before and just wanted to see what I could do. It's really only a first draft but wanted to get some outside opinion as I'm too scared to show anyone I know.