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Last Wish

Once upon time there was a boy.

The aforementioned boy happened to be in a wrong place and was never wanted by everyone. We all looked at him with disgust because he was too clever, too brilliant and shining for his age. Thus we all thought "Well, this boy is smart but won't be able to have a life."

The boy grew and became a teenager. Granted - he was clever but not intelligent.

Too often this boy was deprived of normal human emotions and too often he felt all the pain people could give. And boy grew older and older, each year receiving more and more into his part in this life. So teenager struggled and struggled, tried and tried to breach the wall but couldn't do it.

As the boy grew older more and more he began to notice that his part in this life was to suffer. This now clever young man spent hours studying reasons why and why me but couldn't find his way out of the maze.

Years rolled by and our young hero grew older. After some work he was granted a pension. As he sat in the dormitory room in the elderly home, shitting and pissing into his pants in the wheelchair, abandoned by everyone he once knew, abandoned by relatives and his obvious wife. And as the tears flowed from his eyes old man asked in his heart: Why me?

Although last of his years this old man spent in relative care he spent all his life thinking about his sad situation never being able to find solution.

Having gotten used to life in the dormitory dreams he started to pray to new angel. Angel called "Death" by vulgar and "Comma" by those more enlightened ones.

Once as this old man sat in his wheelchair praying to "Comma" he appeared and told there's only 10 minutes left before old man will be moved to another plane of existence.

Comma thought a bit before answering. He thought with mercy this old man now dying in the wheelchair, having lived a life where nothing good had happened, chances deprived and emotional life destroyed beyond point of no repair. Old man sighed and thought about his miserable life. Comma offered him a chance to strike back. For all his life this old man was haunted by other people and now, at the elderly home dying alone he was given chance to get even. Next morning old man was found from a wheelchair. His smile was shining like a bright sun in the winter breeze, his hands were folded over his breast.

Staff took him out of his wheelchair and called to the relatives but found out no one never knew this old man and would never know. So old man was cremated and his ashes were cast into the wind. Few decades after that as the last human was sitting in elderly home Comma took him away and thought:

"Well, wasn't this man clever. Now I am unemployed and my time has come to perish. If I only had known since the time of my career this I wouldn't have applied to this business ever."

And so death died.

The End.


VD (acronym for Valentine's Day and Venereal Disease)

Don't you just hate it when it's supposed to be day of remembering friends and you eventually notice you have already sent all the cards in time and empty mailbox clings like a church bell before burial ceremony?

To ask What's wrong with me? isn't the answer, neither is blaming the former people one considered as friends for leaving me out in the cold. If I could warm my apartment with bits of solidfied loneliness and solace I would be running nuclear power plant soon.

Granted, couple of SMS's arrived but still the feeling of loneliness and solitude is beating the bones. Why do we act like this? Why do I act like this? What's the point of arranging a day which is as painful to handle as christmas and all the other days where you can see bunch of folks having fun but you know that for some reason or other you just cannot jump into the crowd and enjoy yourself, have a good time and so on.

You painfully just know the days that used to be and the situation back then and now you just compare how it was like. But the days won't come back and direction of time cannot be changed. It's an everflowing stream which during the daytime swallows up crowd so that people drive around the street, on their way to some place far away, then returning and doing the cycle again and again each day, each night, each week, month, year, decade, century.

So what can you do? Look out of the window and notice the hotel booked full and general signs of human life in your locale but that's about it - you are alone, and even if humans could fly you would knew your window would be too high, your window would be too dirty to look upon your misery.

And so you just think what's it all about - why me, why, why, why... what a useless question! It's after all obvious - you were the one to be nailed into the coffin, buried alive and you are just trying to grasp the threads of life like a person striving for fresh air.

No, you don't get it - you breath, your cells exist, they interact and so on. Only place where this social interaction exists is in each of your cell which consist your body, brains directing your movements, your conscience only friend in the hell of existence.

And looking upon time which is called future you instinctively know that it won't get better. It was the same last year, and the year before that. And so on. Later as you get older you still carry on remembrances of times that are lagging behind. And eventually you just sit in your chair in elderly house looking outside, suffering dementia and remembering how it was, it used to be... and your failing nervous system just sends good memories so you can sit in your wunderbaum and think of the things that won't come again.

And so your life just fades, you eventually lose contact with outside world and perish away like nothing ever happened, nobody comes to your funeral. If you had a chance you could almost see the situation where people ask you: where is that guy and you would answer: don't know, he never existed.



Last update: Tuesday, June 19, 2001 14:19


"Always been this way
It's the poor man who gets hurt
All you ever work for
Is to leave your footprints in the dirt ."

-Deep Purple: Fingers to the bone

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