I stood at the back, away from everyone else, and watched. Watched the religious man speak for a few minutes, watched as tears ran down the faces of a few of the people standing in the wet and cold, watched as the people slowly walked away silently and watched as the man with the shovel began to throw the dirt back into the hole.
The rivers of red ran down both my arms, the gashes wide open, blood dripping slowly from the end of my fingers to the floor, yet I continued to watch. Shovel after shovel of earth was deposited into the hole, the large coffin slowly being covered and disappearing from view, the coffin that contained me.
I had been surprised so many people had come to say goodbye, after all not many people bothered when I was here, and I felt a small pang of guilt seeing their tears, but it was too late. I had done what I had done and now I was free, free from the life that I had been living, the life that was slowly sucking me down into the black hole of despair.
Eventually the man with the shovel finished his work and drove his shovel into the earth, wiped his brow, walked away and I was alone. Alone staring at the pile of earth in front of me I felt myself starting to smile and, for the first time in a very long time, I felt alive.