Sunday, January 8, 2012

Face to the floor

I always said better me than someone less able to cope. Better me than someone who would be eaten alive.
This isn't a zero sum game. Every hit we take doesn't mean one less for someone else. It means one more score for the sociopath.
 Must we all be consumed in their bonfire just to illuminate their vanity?

 One day I picked up a two by four. I am grown and my hands are full. I pressed the wood down on the floor with my chest to reach as far to the other end as I could. It was the first time I understood the effort of shooting yourself in the chest with a rifle. Hemingway pulled the trigger with his toe.  My father used his finger. It is not a fluid act and is just this side of difficult.
It would give me pause to reconsider. But I am not suicidal.  I am supposed to be more at risk. I went the other way. He didn't have any fun out there. I might go that way but never that method. He knew it would hurt. The night before, after I unloaded his gun,  I heard him telling her that he swore he heard the shot and in his mind felt it. I think he was wrong. I could tell that when he made it happen he felt it. I am sure of this and I know he was too. I am sure that he didn't think it was his mind filling in blanks for continuity. I am sure that he was sure. Other than that I am sure of little else.  I am sure it hurt. A lot. Trust me on this one thing. I am also sure that a person can be dead pretty fucking pretty fucking quick. I wonder what his last thought was? I am sure that the silence after is as bad as the sound.

In the end, he lived for the glory of death. Romanticized it. The underdog of unrequited love finally takes a stand. I will not go quietly.
   He got that right.  The triumphant cry of a desperate lover didn't last much longer than the sound of the shot. If you didn't hear it, you will never know.  It wasn't human. And he isn't animal.  That second was somewhere between.
 I saw his life flash in front of my eyes.  


upsi said...

"Give me one goddamn reason for all of it. Why must we all be consumed in their bonfire just to illuminate their vanity?
And fuck if I can see any benefit to them. Is it so gleefully entertaining to cause people's misery?"

You have a gift for writing. I'm short on an answer to your cosmically profound question, but I love it so much that you've asked.


q1605 said...

Thanks upsi.
I think I should be shot in the neck with a tranquilizing dart.
It's all in the eyes of the beholder.