Write a paragraph in which you imagine yourself on death’s row with a few hours left before you are executed.
For this week’s blog I have tried to collect my thoughts into the mindset of what it would be like knowing I am going to die in a short few hours. I strayed away from questioning whether my life had enough purpose and leant more towards a successful life being taken away. I think what influenced this particular piece and direction of writing was the amount of study I have completed this semester on the cruel manner in which Aboriginal people were treated. Their life was their own, however was claimed by other’s and taken so emotionlessly.
Death has always been far away. I was born and I had my whole lifetime ahead of me. I was five and I still had only just begun. I was twelve and I started high school. By this point I felt I had lived such a long time, as all I had known was school. I was fifteen and I had my first love. That loved pursued and I had my whole life to look forward to.
I am twenty. I am engaged to be married. I have graduated. I have a full time job. I have a house to move into to make it a home. I have a family to start. I have three hours left of my life. And, I am innocent.
All I will know is twenty. I will never marry him. My years of study only resulted in two years of working. The house will be empty. There is no home. No family. All I can do is sit here, chained, in this three hour pool of cold darkness and wait.
My entire life leading up to this moment felt quicker than the three hours before me. I am not where I thought I would be at twenty when I was five. I have everything I want yet I cannot reach it. I am numb. All I can picture is the home I should be moving into being an empty house. He’ll sit there alone as I sit here alone, and maybe, just maybe, it will feel like we are together again. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.