Scientists say that you are dead when your brain can no longer hold oxygen. The body loses its fuel and your cells finally have peace. That isn’t true. I can confirm that for myself. Mainly because I’m dead, mentally and emotionally. However, the pain I bear is forever present. The feeling grasps into my heart with a knife, ready to slice it to shreds. It’s blade, the sharpest and most deadly of its kind, wants to suffocate me. To that I say, go ahead. Seeing your lover, the person you gave your left to, the same one that sacrificed so much into making your life happy turn into someone who’s lying in a bed, death aiming at their soul and ready to take it apart… it’s enough to let me agree to my murder by the sake of feeling’s knife. No, not a murder. I’d do it myself. My sorrowed face turns to his, soaking in the sight before my eyes. I’m watching his chest rise like a mountain, then fall like my heart. Slower and slower, harsh yet quiet. It hurts, so very much. I remember his flaming green eyes, the smile that flipped my world upside down at every degree it moved. His words, once full of meaning, full of life, full of love, is now inaudible. His body too weak to survive, or have to strength to tell me It’ll be okay.My mind changes its vision within a second. I’m standing inside a house, the bricks falling apart, the wallpaper seeming to cry and scream as it made its way down the wall. A television placed in the far corner, the scene in the movie changing rapidly, however, I cannot hear it. My masculine body jumped at a sudden yell, sharply twisting around to face two angry individuals. Their outraged faces glowing in the hallway’s flickering light. My lover’s face yelling at the woman in front of him. Now I remember, even without the sound I could interpret what they were saying. His mother was yelling about how she always assumed he was a what she called, a normal man. Dating women, getting drunk in bars, partying every Friday night and jamming to the popular hits on the radio. I could only imagine how she looked before I came into the room, the few moments where her mind crumpled. Realizing her son was dating someone. Someone who wasn’t exactly a girl.My hand slaps against my dazed face, reminding me that I should be paying attention to the dying figure. The pain was gone for a moment, for a second, only to return while my eyesight adjustsitself to the room. I swear I hear a laugh in the back of my mind. Life decides to play with your brain this way. It makes sure you are on the string of life, barely able to balance yourself. One second, you think you will make it, the other, well, you might as well call yourself a goner. First my love, then what else? My child? Wait a minute, my child. At home, in the bed upstairs. Beside my own bedroom laid a sleeping nine-year-old boy. A boy who doesn’t know what he’ll wake up to. Will he wake up to both of his fathers, or will he wake up to one? At this pace, the possibility of none is rising higher and higher. When I thought my pain couldn’t get any deadlier, the trigger was pulled. The feeling of warm tears streaming down my now pale face. My hands trembling as they feel a rocky surface. Feeling’s knife seemed to come to life. It laid right in my hands. One last look is all I wish for, and I get it. However, once I look into Jakob’s eyes, like a flicker of a candle, he’s gone. Screams fills the room. God, the pain. So much pain, so much sorrow, so much guilt it just suffocates me. Desperately, my vision turned to the door. Doctors and nurses running in. It’s too late. Blood was already spilling on the floor, along with my world fading. Only one sentence enters my mind. I know he would understand.