all hope abandon, ye who enter here

why do we fall? so we can learn to pick ourselves up.
this line has repeated itself in my mind for the past day, ever since i heard the wonderful news about my executioner, PC drama. i see him at he doorway now, just anticipating sunlight to fall gently upon the locks of the wooden door, which will then swiftly set off a set of contraptions that will unlock all hell. with his shining axe, my eyes will squint from. my eyes tear, and they tear will emotion. pain with every teardrop that cascades down my face and leaves a trail of blood.
you may think you know what i'm talking about. but you don't. for lit is only the door. and something else represents my death.