The last night of a psycho (1)

A bottle of cheap wine, a pack of cigarettes,a lighter and a gun that’s what he cared to brought. He stood against a tree in the dark, waiting for his prey. Tonight should be his last night on earth, two lives were going to end before sunrise . He didn’t care about the laws he was about to break. They can come after him in hell. And, so he waited.

Around the fourth cigarette, he heard footsteps. He grabbed the gun without a second thought and came out of the bushes. She was strolling along the side walk. She was listening to some music, her earphones plugged. She didn’t hear him coming; she didn’t know what was about to hit her, she didn’t know she was going to die that night.

He put the gun to her temple and pressed his hand against her mouth. No hesitation, no fear, precise cold and calculated. She didn’t scream, didn’t make a move. She closed her eyes and waited. He whispered to her ear, to walk to the bushes and she did. He made her sit on a log and sat in front of her with the gun pointing straight at her heart.

“The only way you’re getting out of this alive is if you convince me that you matter, that this universe has some form of order, that you exist to serve a higher purpose, else you and I won’t last to see the dawn.” He took a swig of wine, then handed her the bottle: “Trust me you’re going to need it” and lit yet another cigarette.

She looked young, bright, hopeful with all the patience and courage to face everything life threw at her. She was everything he had been. He saw his past in her. They were the same age. But, they couldn’t be any different, he already looked dead, a rotting soul in a rotting body but she was flaming with energy, pulsating with life.

The night was still young…

 

 

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Salvation

He was walking along the side walk, when she caught his eye. Her hazel eyes shone brighter than the sunlight. He saw his salvation in her eyes. He saw what could be, another life, a hope. He came a thousand times to this same place, because he still believed in the power of the picturesque places, the peace they brought to his thoughts. But, the place seemed to have lost its magic, a long time ago.

He was a romantic guy, and despite all the deceptions, he had given up on everything except for love. It was the only power he believed in, the only sensation that defied the cold logic that reigned upon his mind. The logic that brought down his faith, his habits,his beliefs… crumbled in front of love: a chemical reaction that carried the most powerful of sensations. And, her eyes were full of love.

 

 

How and If

How can you live knowing it all stands for nothing, knowing that purpose is just an illusion? How can you love? How can can you stand meaningless? How do you not take away your own life? I find this meaningless, my meaningless, unbearable. I gave up believing in a god, when he failed to answer all my prayers, when I realised that nothing had changed all those years, that I was living in a loop of eternal suffering and I was the one that put myself there. It was this first deception that ended my belief in an all merciful higher power, once and for all.

Even when my grand mother passed away, and I wasn’t there with her in her last weeks of life, I refused all kinds of religious consolation, I tried for a few moments to unify my thoughts with all those people standing next to me and praying for her salvation. But, I couldn’t stop thinking about the last time I saw her, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, she never woke up after that day. She was just lying there, looking like she did always, but she was already gone, because the doctors pulled the plugs a few days later and she was gone.

I felt no soul leaving her body, there was nothing surreal about her death. She just died, just like the hundred of people that died that day all over the world. There was nothing special about death. There is nothing special about death, so why would  there anything special about life? I never prayed for her, I just go by her grave whenever I get the chance and I just stand there, repeating the few senseless words I was taught to say, but with no inherent belief in their magic.

If there is a god, then he isn’t the one so humanly portrayed in religion. He knows no joy or anger, he doesn’t feel the suffering of all the people of his creation, he doesn’t need anyone to believe in him. If there ever was a sensitive god  then he should’ve ended his own existence millions of years ago, because I doubt his existence is any less unbearable than ours. But I doubt our god is anything more than just the forces that set the wheel of life in motion. It doesn’t matter because I gave up on god, whatever form he takes a long time ago.

Perverse Pleasure

It’s not everyday you see people act like themselves, and usually you catch a glimpse of their true nature in moments of anger or drunkenness. I love those moments where the masks come of, the social conformities are torn off, and you see the devil within. Man made the devil, whatever desires or thoughts that lurked inside of him, he classified as perverse, unnatural and attributed them to an exterior power, in an effort to preserve a functional harmonious society, where everyone is depicted as saints.

But, in those moments of anger and drunkenness, you see what we are truly made of, you can argue that man has no true nature, that he creates himself, that could’ve been true in some distant utopian society where every one has had a perfect childhood and became an uncomplexed adult, but that doesn’t happen in our society, everyone has a scarred childhood, few people have the power to overcome it, those are the saints that walk amongst us, the rest, we act.

We reign whatever desire or thought, ill-perceived by society motivated by a desire to fit the standards, to not be rejected, but the conscious effort required to act is easily depleted, and that’s when I know that I’m not alone, it’s when people reveal the darkness inside them, it’s then that I know that we’re all hurt, it’s when they give up their facade and tell you the horrible things they think about you or someone else. It’s when they turn to violence and hate that I know we’re not smart and evolved creatures, we’re animals that took up acting classes.

We’re egoistic, hateful, sadistic savages, that’s what we are and that’s how we’ll remain. We have an insatiable desire for power, control over others, fame… We all want to be gods that stand on top of a kneeling mass of inferiors, and we will seek that desire in whatever way possible, just look at the bloodshed that makes up thousands of years of human history, all the wars, the rape, the murders, the luxury of the emperors’ palaces, the glory of the conquerors and the profane poverty mass.

It when we act as ourselves, that’s when we understand ourselves, but what comes after the understanding? A reconciliation with ourselves? Forgiveness of others? An all open civil war? I don’t know the answer, for now, I enjoy the scenes of drunk angry men and women, actually reveal themselves.

I am tired of explaining myself to you, of course, I have never told you any of my inner thoughts directly, it was above you to ask about me and I couldn’t dare trouble you with my thoughts. I don’t know how to feel about you any more, what to feel when you cross my mind, and you do, you’re always there in the background behind every girl I see, a constant reminder that I never got a single genuine smile, a compassionate look that I never got you.

I can’t write any more, can’t express a thought in a proper sentence. The truth is I ran out of worthy thoughts, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been stuck in the same loop of misery for years, that I said all that there is to say about you. I am tired of saying that I gave up on life, and I am too much of a coward to do anything about it, and so I’ve let myself drift, carried away by every current life throws towards me, lost and not the least bit worried where I might land.

You were/are-who knows- my cause and my purpose, and I lost… I lost you and tried to forget about you, but it seems you are the cornerstone upon which a horrible, miserable, worthless character was built, destined to play forever the same buffoon that fell for a smile. An unwise character in a Greek odyssey, that is what I’ve become. How can I change my destiny? How can I exit the loop? How can I forget?

Do you ever wonder which one of your cigarettes finally did it? Would you like to know which puff was it that gave you cancer? Which vodka shot gave you liver failure? When did your sins finally caught up on what you always wanted them to do? When did your body give up on life, decided you were a lost cause and stopped cleaning up your mess?

The cigarettes aren’t that tasty and neither is the alcohol. The first you use to get back at yourself for whichever reason you have for hating this life, a slow but guaranteed suicide, because let’s face it, you’re too much of coward to end your own life, you can’t bring yourself to pull the trigger or tie the noose, or maybe you’re just waiting for something to call you back, bestow upon your life some meaning… The waiting is easier after you down a few shots, suddenly you see that life is -and this is the best word I found to describe it- stupid and you just let the time flow by or better yet drink until you lose all consciousness.

And, you wonder why do you even bother? Why do you bother writing up these words? Why do you bother waking up each day when all the days look the same? And, most importantly, why do you even bother with life?

A year Pt 2

So, you may understand that I didn’t think much of my life at that time, and I wasn’t planning on furthering the suffering for much longer. I had given up everything at that time, notably my studies, I stopped going to class, it wasn’t worth it anymore, I didn’t study on my own, I just spent the days in my room, not doing anything, watching my life go down in flames, I failed more tests than I could count, and I wasn’t the least bothered by it.

Liberated from my religious restraints, I was, at last, free to experiment. First, came the smoking, I didn’t  think much of my life, let alone be bothered if I was breathing cancer into my lungs, I wanted to die, who cares if I smoked. Then, came the alcohol, all the beer I drank trying to escape for a few hours the terrible reality that I called life.

Then, on a lovely Saturday morning, as I came out of a physics test that bored me out of my mind, I learned that my grandmother had passed away. It’s strange that I spent the majority of my life at my granny’s house, I was even raised by her and I loved her as my mother, it’s strange that you spend most of your life with someone, but you’re not with them when they die, instead you’re rotting away in some miserable university away from them. I don’t know how my grandmother died, I don’t understand how she got sick while I was away, all I know is that I wasn’t by her side when she passed away, and that is a regret I will hold all my life.

Her death was absurd, just like everything else, but it made me realize that the existence of some people can have a great impact on your life, my grandmother didn’t revolutionize science, nor did she end world hunger, all she did was do right by me and I loved her for that. That was the purpose of life, to leave a positive mark on someone’s life. Life is hard, and you can choose to give up on it if you wish, but if you choose to live on, know that there are some beautiful people like my grandmother who will make the journey bearable.

At that moment, I hated how my life had turned out to be, I hated my university, I hated the field I chose, I drifted away from my parents and I felt that I had made a mistake, and I wasn’t going to be able to recover, I wanted to give up on engineering, I wanted a second chance at something else. And, so I had a talk with my father, told him I hated myself for being stuck there. He told me, nothing in life was easy, you can’t get whatever you want,  if I didn’t like engineering, I just have to succeed in it, get a degree then do whatever I wanted. I had to force myself through something I disliked and force myself to appreciate it, because that’s the reality of life.

I forced myself to get out of my rut, during the last couple of months of this year, I can’t say I’ve achieved phenomenal results, but I can say it was during the last months that I actually sat down on a desk and studied, even if it may be too late and I may be expelled from the university, I’m glad I got to work and tried, that I conquered whatever feeling of fear or fright that came whenever I faced something that I didn’t understand and felt like an idiot.

Life is a constant effort, you give it meaning by that constant effort, whether you succeed or fail, it doesn’t matter, what matters is that you tried.