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Nobody will miss you |
| Written by Taylor | |
| Sunday, 24 February 2008 | |
Even as he said he would, he knew he wouldn't. Even though that's where he stood, he knew he couldn't. The world seemed large from where he was, not a big change from when he would stand and walk on the ground. The world was bigger, but everything was smaller. A cloud rested on his shoulder and told him to quit being ridiculous. "This is not your end," the cloud whispered. "This is someone else's grave." The man sat down, legs over the side of the building. He'd been to this spot several times before, though never with these intentions. He used to come here to be alone. To feel like God, sitting high above everybody else, yet still feel the pains of living among them. This time he has come to feel like a man, a human. This time is different. This time it is for everybody else, and not himself. Wind rushed up the side of the building in a race to the clouds. The man closed his eyes and felt the wind move beneath his clothes. Never before had he felt more childish, to take the easy way out. That's never how he's done it. But that was the reason he was here in the first place: his hard work never paid off. He had worked at everything. Given everything everything. No matter now. Good grief. What would happen if he were to just turn around right now? Go on living like he is? With nothing. Being nothing. Feeling nothing. Doing nothing. Dreaming nothing. Yeah, what about that dream? That dream he liked so much. The one where he was sleeping alone. The one where his world changed every time he dreamed it. The dream that made him feel like he was sleeping in somebody's hands. The one that made him feel at ease. The dream that made him feel like it would all be fine. The dream that felt so real. It wasn't real, of course. Where he is now is more real. Though the pull of that dream was strong. He pushed it to the back of his mind. The moon was close. Almost blinding, though only half full. If the moon could talk, what would it say? The man imagines the moon telling him that he is just one man, the world will not miss him. There are other men, better men. Men more suitable for the things he tried to do. All true. He would miss nearly everybody. They had been great to him. He cared about them. Maybe they cared about him, too. Maybe. Well, if they care, they'll be at the funeral, right? How else is he to know? Nobody these days will tell you how they feel if you're alive. You have to die an untimely death to make people's true colors show. That is probably the saddest thing about people these days. He will not miss that. He tried to tell people he cared about them, but people these days get creeped out by that kind of thing. He felt stupid for caring. And that did make him angry. Perhaps they will be even more creeped out when they see his mangled body splattered on the street. Maybe he will land right in front of one of his friends. "**** you all," the man screamed to the moon. "God save me." So, angry at wasting so much time already, he jumped out as far as he could, wishing to fly right before he began to fall. And that was his end. The moon was still shining. The street still quiet. The world kept going. Copyright 2008 Taylor |
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