As I sat there I thought about how funny the universe seemed. On a day like this, a day where I feel like this, the sun would of course come shining into my windows lighting up the whole room. I saw it as a laid against the wall; it crept from the floor then up. The walls surrounding me have been my friends for some time. They have been witness to the many screams and tears and rage that life has brought on me. And today, of all days a sunny day, I have decided to end said life. I lay against the wall with a hitch in my breathing from crying and sweat on my palms and face. I sat there with the revolver in my hand.
How I got the revolver, I’m not too sure. I know I had it here for some time now. I don’t remember things easily; I could hardly remember what happened last night. I’ve been drinking, yeah, but that’s not abnormal considering the state I’ve been in for a while. I can’t even remember what brought me to this state of mind at all. Only that I wish to get out and with this revolver in my hand, this key for the release of my dismal days, I sit here waiting to be set free. With this golden moment I won’t take any chances. I put the open end of the revolver into my mouth and close my eyes in anticipation.
It’s funny how your mind wanders under stress. You start to bring up all the long past troubles that you’ve been through. Now and again little bits of irrelevant worrying seep in. Such as the worry that I’m pretty sure I left my front door open last night and that I haven’t locked it. The worry that I have probably drunk dialed many people in my contacts. But I know that these thoughts are just what the body is programmed to do. To keep you alive by any means it can, even by distraction. I know I’ve had enough and I pull the trigger.
pop
My tongue hurt and my mouth taste awful. I start coughing and I took the revolver away from my mouth only to see that I hadn’t shot a bullet at myself. A little white flag with the word ‘Bang’ comically written on it stuck out from the tip of the revolver. I notice someone looking at me and I look up to see one of my friends just standing there. Standing in the doorway as the sun beamed down on her and I could see that she was grinning, teeth showing and everything.
“Don’t think you’re getting away from me that easily dummy,” she said.
And I realized then that the revolver was a fake. Just a gag toy for amusement. My friend had put this here all along for this moment. She anticipated the extent of my troubles and took it upon herself to show me that not only was she a good friend but that life still had unexpected things in store. I looked at the toy and at my friend and at the window with the light shining through it and laughed and how ridiculous everything is. Ridiculous and unexpected with more to come.
“These are the eyes you looked at me in what I thought was a loving way,” I said as I plucked his eyeballs from his eye sockets. They came out with a cute suction like sound.
“This is the mouth you tried to smile at me with to make everything better.” I took the knife and cut his lips off, as if they were pieces of steak.
I took a lead bat and smashed it into his chest repeatedly, each time my serene grace of a grin got wider. To my disgust he let his blood splatter all of the walls and myself. When his chest was broken open enough I stuck my hand inside.
“And this is the infamous heart you supposedly had.”
And then I ripped that from him the same way I felt he severed mine.
“Don’t worry, this is love.”
It took an innumerable amount of energy and a bucket load of glee to drive the knife straight into his throat so as to silence him forever; the only thing left to come out of his mouth is the blood he dribbled oh so carelessy on the new carpet.
It was a cold evening when the sadness struck me. You would think that sitting in a little posh place in England surrounded by evergreens all around you and a warm cabin that you call your cozy abode would somehow just make things better, but if there is one thing I have learned in all my years of living it’s that you can never run away from the things that bother you. Not matter where you go. No matter if you change your name- your whole identity, which is really quite easy if you know the right people, you can never change the emotion that is embedded inside of you.
And who am I? What makes me so special that you have to read my story? Well, I’m nothing special. That’s what I’ve been saying to myself ever since I learned of the term ‘fuck up’. I’m nothing. Every aspect in my life, every second I had to do something I have thoroughly ‘fucked it up’ so to speak. I’m that nice fellow who couldn’t pick up his grades and hold down a job, who came from a despicable family and felt ostracized wherever he would go. Did I mention I was gay? I find it quite ridiculous that people feel that liking a person of the same gender is morally wrong. All good boys should like good girls and vice versa, even if the boys aren’t all so good and the girls aren’t all so stable. You can be as fucked up as you are but so long as you’re hetero. You like hitting your wife? Well, hey, as long as you’re a man with a wife! You like nagging him and making his life hell? Well a woman must do to a man what she can. It’s all good, morally correct shenanigans.
I see you. I close my eyes and I see you. I feel you. Why are you so far away? Come closer. Hold me. Kiss me. I can’t open my eyes. I don’t want to. I want you. I want you here right beside me where you belong. We’ll watch cheesey movies together as we sip hot chocolate, wrapped completely in each other’s heat. We’ll go on long walks and hold each other’s hand. We’ll make fufilling promises to each other. To love eachother. Always. Come hither. Please stay, stay with me here under the lids of my eyes. I’ll miss you. I don’t want to go. But I can’t. I can’t keep my eyes closed forever. On the count of three I’ll open them. However far you are, whatever you’re feeling, just know that I’ll find you soon. Okay, one, two, three. See you soon.
I can close my eyes and the picture of you comes to mind. I trail my hands up your arms until it gets to the soft material of your shirt. I imagine the rest of your form as I lean in for a hug and the warmth of you makes me happy. But you’re not there. You’re just not there.
He is a trickster. So miserable. A vagabond. A stray. And yet he stays in your head day after day. Why must he be where he should not? Why do you not apply the lessons you were taught? He is nothing. Meaningless. A fish in the lake. And now it’s time for you to stop acting so fake. Smile more. Be happy. Go somewhere. And never, ever, ever come back here.
The girl runs and runs and she tries her best not to look back. The thing is, she’s not even physically running. It’s in her mind. In her thoughts. Every day when she wakes up and every night when she lies awake. And let’s not forget the slow, ticking seconds in between. The girl wants out of this endless torture, she’s growing weary, and the path ahead is getting dark. But her thoughts are still there. And so the girl continues to run.
I saw myself once. I looked out the window one quiet night when everyone had gone to sleep. No one to yell at me to do this or do that. No one playing music or watching anything to disrupt my thoughts. I usually look out the window into the dark sky to gaze at the stars. That these beautiful things are only beautiful far away but up close it’s a boiling ball of intense energy. And that’s when I saw me. I looked up and I saw a star that started to fall from its place in the sky. Perhaps it was tired of trying to pretend it was this arbitrary, pretty thing in the sky. Maybe it was just tired in general. And it fell and fell and fell. In my view no one else was witnessing this. Maybe they were but how would I know, I was alone after all. Like the star. And it fell towards the Earth and in its last moment it ruptured and became little pieces. Something so intensely strong just fizzled out of existence. Just like how I am. I saw myself for the first time…and I wasn’t happy with it.
A noun is any person, place, or a thing. Some may say a blog is a thing.
Daniel walked up the path towards the gate and reached his hand out to touch it. It was pure black and smooth as if it were maintained on a daily basis. He studied it for a bit looking for a way to open it but there was no sign of any locking mechanism. He shook it for good measure but still nothing happened. He looked around at his surroundings but couldn’t see anyone. It was day time even though the sky was light purple although it did have hints of blue in it. He wasn’t sure; he wasn’t much of a painter- the closest he ever got to one was in kindergarten with finger paint. There was a light breeze that felt pleasant but it wasn’t necessarily hot, it was more of a comfortable kind of warm, the kind of weather you take long walks in. He looked to the trees to see if he could somehow bypass the gate through there but saw that the gate stretched on far past the many evergreens. He saw movement in between the trees; blurs of silver were darting here and there. One stopped and sniffed in his direction. It was a wolf.
“Please God, Ala, Jesus, Zeus, Poseidon, anyone. Tell me what’s going on.” Daniel said to the sky. When he looked back the wolf had left and he was still confused.
