Rizzo The Nihilizo

Friday, March 11, 7127

Six Seconds To Live

Heh, one of the first short stories I wrote. One of my best, too. I wanted to write something completely original, something I had never heard of before.

So I wrote the last six seconds of someone's life as they fell to death, thousands of miles up in the sky.

Six Seconds To Live

This is it, this is the end, there’s going to be no tomorrow. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to be happy about, nothing to be sad about. I will become one with nothingness, I will no longer be incarnate, I will cease to exist. Species-Me will cease to exist, a dying breed of people will have well, died out. Perhaps I should have tried to do more in life, but now it’s too late, it’s too late to do anything else. I suppose that in this dog eat dog world, I became obsolete in the rat race of evolution and power shifts.

It’s kind of funny how it happened, any way. Not that it really matters any more, what was funny or what was not funny. Nothing matters anymore because the end is imminent, more so than ever. Of course it was always in the back of my head, a phobia that we all have, but now it has become quite unequivocal and in the front of my cranium. Dear, dear brain, you have served me so well in the past, and no longer will you be able to help me. Well, thinking back, I suppose you weren’t that much of a help seeing as I’m in this situation now. And quite the predicament it is, no perceivable solution is jumping out into my face, although I’m sure the ground will quite shortly now.

Now I’m watching all these people on the ground, wasting their time as it seems to me at the top of the world. I’m trying to hold it all inside now, and retain my dignity, but it’s becoming quite hard. Soon those people down there, having fun, enjoying their meaningless life will awake to a rude siren of death amongst them. I do hope something ironic happens, such as me falling onto a bench full of food…It’s hard to see where exactly I’ll land now, but I can still see the stupid little ants, roaming about, foraging for food, working for the queen ant.

Oh hell, I feel so full of angst now, so full of hatred and spite towards the world and everything containing it or inside of it. Although I suppose it is to be expected considering my plight, and most other people would be acting in pretty much the same way I am. But it still feels so horrible, not that the impending sense of “DOOM!” is really comforting me much. You know, knowing that the end is so close that you can taste its horrible morning breath upon your face really changes your view on the world. Being up and looking down really alters your character, although being up looking down, and watching down get much closer makes things oh so much different than from a position of safety.

Knowing that it will all be over soon doesn’t help much either, because that does mean everything will be done. All my suffering, pain, all my hurt will drift away with my sudden demise, the most instantaneous solution around. Hah, the way I’m looking at it, it seems like I’m committing suicide rather than just dying by accident. Although, like I said, it is to be expected that I feel this way. God, it hurts when I breathe…

It would seem that without my finite suffering, pain, loss, and hurt, that I would be in an euphoria of pleasure. I suppose death is not one sided as some people would see it, though. Death isn’t really inherently evil, people just look at it that way because it takes away those that they love, thus the vision that death is evil. No, it is not the bringer of terror and evil to this lands, that is another. Rather, I think the bringer of terror and such is really just us: you, me, that strange guy next door, the old lady across the street.

But that’s quite besides the point I’m trying to make here, if I am indeed trying to make a point at all. More likely I’m trying to make a “splat”, at the rate of speed and direction that I’m going in. What I’m trying to say is though, is that death is not evil nor good, when the bad goes away so does the good, thus creating the sweet neutrality of slumber known simply as death. Not the creator, and not quite the destroyer, death is more like the eraser.

And how well I will know this eraser, considering what’s about to happen. I’m still mulling over whether or not to let my corneas take in the surface of my end, or to glue them shut with my tears as I hurtle towards my fate at an alarming rate of speed. Would it be better if I pretended none of this was to happen, and I was still in my log cabin in Alaska, sitting by the fireside, drinking hot apple cider? Ignorance is bliss, yes, but I have always been one to look for the truth, that seemingly distant enlightenment that most of us strive for. Should I throw away all my morals and values just to have some comfort in my time of death, or should I be a stickler for what is right in my eyes?

Not that it will mater anyhow, no one will know, and I will be dead. But what does matter is the here and the now, so what will make me feel better? Hah, what will make me feel better…What would make me feel better is having a future, having some hope in my life, having something to strive for. Maybe actually having something to think about rather than such a morbid subject such as my own journey to the grave would make me feel better.

There was so much more I wanted to do, so much I wanted to accomplish. I can’t believe I sat around all those days and nights, doing nothing, being nothing, and repeating the cycle. I could have changed the world, maybe stopped the spin cycle of greed, war, hate, and fascism. Alas, I am yet still here, I could never have imagined something could have been more depressing, this is the epitome of suicidal, one might say.

I’ve loved a lot of things in my life, and I’ve hated a lot of things, too. I wish I could take all that back, start all anew, and not bring myself to this position. Most of all, I wish I could tell those that I love to not worry, for I have nothing to fear anymore. My anguish is over, I can finally relax and just let things happen, above me. Mostly because I’ll be six feet under, but that’s besides the point. I just wish there was some way I could tell them all I love them. Oh god, and the night before this, I had gotten into a huge argument with my fiancé. I can’t even comprehend the magnitude of this anymore, my thoughts are getting more scattered and erratic, pure emotion is now taking over, I have become a beast. Rather, the beast overtook me last night, causing me to say many harsh things that I really should not have said. Would that I could, I would take it all back, so I would not have to shed the tears I do now. With my melancholy and somberness I could power a whole city, that is, if they found a way to use sorrow as an energy.

I’ve just realized-I still have her locket that I bought her in my jacket pocket. When I hit the ground, I really hope that it’s fine and not damaged. Perhaps I can protect it somehow, keep it safe from harm, as a final way of saying “I’m sorry, I love you.” That would be comfort enough, I think I shall. I’ll take my jacket off, and wrap it into a ball, and hold it in my hand, even though it’s dreadfully cold up here. Not that cold is going to matter in a few seconds. What does matter is that they will find it, she will see it, and she will cry, and appreciate the actions I took before my end. She’ll know that I was thinking about her before my final breath, and my long journey of death.

Here, it comes, the end…My last breath. I’m sorry everyone, I love you all.



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