Raiden
10-06-2006, 01:36 AM
It's times like these...I almost wish that I smoked. Not for the burn in my throat, or for the nicotine dose like other addicts need. At least if I smoked, I could give myself some excuse for why I was leaning against a wall outside the hospital.
I simply stood there, my sweatshirt's hood up, likely casting shadow over my face in the already dark night. From my resting spot I could see the people going through the doors of the building with fear on their faces. Those that left either had the happiest faces one could imagine...or the most horrified looks that could cause nightmares in the simple. Those here at the hospital were either inside, or leaving. No one stuck around. No one stayed unless they had a reason to be there. So, why was I here? No clue. I...no longer had a reason to be there, but I didn't quite feel like leaving.
Which brings us back to me wishing that I smoked. At least then I'd have a reason.
Why did I spend all this time watching the people go in and out? Because if I thought of anything else, I'd remember what I had just seen. What I had just gone through. Seeing...I didn't know what the hell I had seen. I've read so many books, watched so many movies, went to so many classes. Everyone had some fantasy about death. A grim reaper. A strange chilling feeling. Even worms coming out of the ground to wrap around a dead soul and drag them into hell. But when I saw death...when I was standing in the same room, watching eyes just go blank...there was nothing. He was there, then he just wasn't. It didn't even look as if he were just sleeping. If you were sleeping, your chest would move. No. What I saw was the husk of my friend. The shell. His body, mangled in some places, was still there. But HE...my FRIEND...was gone.
I felt like I should cry. It seemed right. That's what people do when someone they care about dies. Their faces scrunch up, tears go down their cheeks, and they cry. Some are quiet, others are loud, but they all cry. So, why couldn't I? All the shit I've gone through, it couldn't have been enough to take away my ability to cry, right? But my eyes remained dry.
And here I was. Outside the hospital, leaning against the wall, watching people leave. I should follow them. I should go home. Go home and talk to my family, see if they care. Call one of my other friends, and see if I should drag them from their mourning to help me. I should even go on one of the instant messengers I have, and see if anyone really gave a shit about someone they only know by the name of some Shinto god of thunder.
Instead...I leaned against a wall. Wishing that I smoked.
I realized I had remained silent the entire time I was outside. I realized after that...I didn't have shit to say. I felt like I should say something, even to myself. After all, I was just given straight proof that you don't get to keep your ability to talk forever. May as well use it while you got it. But, what to say? What COULD I say?
"Fuck it."
Short. Eloquent. Said everything that I was feeling. Perfect.
Yep...everything was fucking perfect.
R.I.P. Alex
I simply stood there, my sweatshirt's hood up, likely casting shadow over my face in the already dark night. From my resting spot I could see the people going through the doors of the building with fear on their faces. Those that left either had the happiest faces one could imagine...or the most horrified looks that could cause nightmares in the simple. Those here at the hospital were either inside, or leaving. No one stuck around. No one stayed unless they had a reason to be there. So, why was I here? No clue. I...no longer had a reason to be there, but I didn't quite feel like leaving.
Which brings us back to me wishing that I smoked. At least then I'd have a reason.
Why did I spend all this time watching the people go in and out? Because if I thought of anything else, I'd remember what I had just seen. What I had just gone through. Seeing...I didn't know what the hell I had seen. I've read so many books, watched so many movies, went to so many classes. Everyone had some fantasy about death. A grim reaper. A strange chilling feeling. Even worms coming out of the ground to wrap around a dead soul and drag them into hell. But when I saw death...when I was standing in the same room, watching eyes just go blank...there was nothing. He was there, then he just wasn't. It didn't even look as if he were just sleeping. If you were sleeping, your chest would move. No. What I saw was the husk of my friend. The shell. His body, mangled in some places, was still there. But HE...my FRIEND...was gone.
I felt like I should cry. It seemed right. That's what people do when someone they care about dies. Their faces scrunch up, tears go down their cheeks, and they cry. Some are quiet, others are loud, but they all cry. So, why couldn't I? All the shit I've gone through, it couldn't have been enough to take away my ability to cry, right? But my eyes remained dry.
And here I was. Outside the hospital, leaning against the wall, watching people leave. I should follow them. I should go home. Go home and talk to my family, see if they care. Call one of my other friends, and see if I should drag them from their mourning to help me. I should even go on one of the instant messengers I have, and see if anyone really gave a shit about someone they only know by the name of some Shinto god of thunder.
Instead...I leaned against a wall. Wishing that I smoked.
I realized I had remained silent the entire time I was outside. I realized after that...I didn't have shit to say. I felt like I should say something, even to myself. After all, I was just given straight proof that you don't get to keep your ability to talk forever. May as well use it while you got it. But, what to say? What COULD I say?
"Fuck it."
Short. Eloquent. Said everything that I was feeling. Perfect.
Yep...everything was fucking perfect.
R.I.P. Alex