Orange Death

"See that color there? No, no, the orange, there. I love that color. I think that's my new favorite color. Yes, it's official. My new favorite color is orange."

There it is. Now there is no trace of darkness in me. I let it sink below the surface with the sun. But where is it hiding? Where is the darkness if I don't put it through my lip, my tongue, my eyebrow? Where is it if not in my clothes and my hair? Where does the darkness go if I don't put it on my back and ankles? Now it's trapped inside me. How do I get it out? Drown it in liquor. Pick fights with people bigger than me. Swim out too far. Stand close to the edge of the platform as the train goes by. Hang over the edge of the boat. Suffocate it with food, or starve it. Over-indulge it or make it suffer. Hate the world, hate the hungry, hate the powerful, hate myself. The darkness is me, and whatever I do with it, I do with myself.

"That's right, Fredrick, you're going to die!"

Whoops. I let my death wish slip out. Keep it under the surface, Inger, where people like it. They don't want to see it. Fredrick doesn't have to. I challenge myself by challenging him. Yes, you will die someday. Maybe by a boating accident, maybe a meteor, or a car accident, or cancer. Tip-toeing around death doesn't prevent it. You fear it, because you secretly want it. So maybe if I perch it on my chest, it will be my friend? Its weight makes it hard to breathe. The dark storm inside won't calm. Pressure outside against pressure inside. I feel it leaking out of my eyes and out of my mouth. I feel it in my fingers. I smell it everywhere. Death, it wispers, death. The only way to live is to live alongside death. Death on your couch, watching tv, in your bed, dreaming, on your dinner table, eating, in your child's face, smiling, and as the wings on which your prayers fly to god. My fear is my comfort. I rest assured knowing that there is rest, assuredly.