Death, the
only thing that is promised to everyone. The only right that’s granted for all
folk. The inevitable, no escape. Some of us fear it, others long for it. Having
this said, some of us just wait for it, others have some requests and little
tweaks to the way they want to leave the physical world. My death is something
that I debate a lot about. I don’t fear my physical death. That’s the easiest
one to take care of, as long as my plans are followed meticulously. And even
though it is the easiest, it is still the object of inspection for tonight’s
post.
I wonder if
I am the only one, but I just can’t avoid imagining every aspect of my life as a
movie, sadly a very boring one. I don’t trust mother nature to pull the plug on
me. I am the one that’ll be doing the dirty deed. A man does what he gotta do. I
just feel like I can’t waste the opportunity of my death. I mean, it’s a
onetime event eh? I just imagine it being full of symbolism things. I will
probably have some music in the background playing. The meaning that I intend
to give to my suicide is probably the hardest choice ever. As bad as the movie
has been, at least I want its grand finale to be Tarantino directed. What will
I leave for everyone? What is the message I am trying to give when the time
comes? With the pull of a trigger I’ll be gone, so it is important that my
intentions are perceived correctly. I don’t want people to look at me as sad
boy victim of today’s society. I don’t really want anyone to look at me besides
the way things are: a dude that knew when it was time to leave. I hope my life
is looked upon just as regular life, because that’s what it is: a damn generic
monotone line, that only spiked before flat lining. But that’s okay. Although
the purpose is to vanish, I hope it’s consequences stain the carpet of society
forever. Don’t know. The script needs a little more drama, a plot twist, still
can’t see it. What is the lead up to the main event? All the epiphanies that
I’ve had will one day sum up. I just know that they will.
What will
be the soundtrack? Will Bernadette Carrol sing with me for my debut? Or will
Beethoven press the trigger with me? Should I give a mix tape to a possible
audience? Hard choice.
Should I
leave my water running? In the other hand, I think that the whole apartment (I
say this as if it doesn’t consist of just a room with a fucking midget
bathroom) should be neatly tidy. Next to me I will leave everything of value,
some cds, books, hard drives, maybe a
note ( apologizing for the mess and inflicted pain ), and , of course, a canvas
on my back. After all, we are making art!
For now I
should be going, time never stops, sadly. Life’s looking bright over here.
