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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Did you know, they say that the human brain still functions after decapitation for three minutes? You lose the ability to move and feel after thirty seconds, the ability to see after eighty seconds along with all of your other senses. You only have yourself and the entire universe crashing down on you.
Well, I did.

(All facts in this piece are purely from my imagination and the idea is taken from my mother.)

Submitted: March 15, 2014

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Submitted: March 15, 2014

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Did you know, they say that the human brain still functions after decapitation for three minutes? You lose the ability to move and feel after thirty seconds, the ability to see after eighty seconds along with all of your other senses. You only have yourself and the entire universe crashing down on you.

Well, I did.

 

Thud.

Pain shoots through my head as all of the blood gushes from the cut off point where the blade ran through my neck. My head feels as if on a bed of nails being stood on by an elephant gradually spearing me on the spikes. The horizon is spinning, I can feel what's left of me rolling along concrete over every jagged stone in between the ground and myself.

I try to close my eyelid, but I'm losing strength. All the blood draining from me millilitre by millilitre 'till I can feel... Nothing.

At all.

 

Thinking about it, being immobile and without feeling is almost calming. Just moments ago I was terrified – I'm dying! There's no going back! This is it! This is the end! - except, I'm not any more. I'm not quite sure why, but as my head sits here staring up into the bright blue of the midday sky, breathing freshly cut grass and hearing the sweet the sound of chirping birds, I'm not scared, I'm not sad and I'm not angry. Since I know this is irreversible it takes the fear away.

 

It's amazing really; the sky, so vast, so empty, so lonesome, can remind so many of so much. That something so isolated can remind us of togetherness. It always reminds me of my girlfriend. She used to stare at the sky for hours on end with eyes that were so blue that they only made me suspect that she had stolen them from the ocean on a warm summer's day. So calm and comforting that you couldn't help taking a dip in them so check if the water was pleasant and it was always perfect. I could swim in them for hours, getting lost so easily. I'm gonna miss her and the way her sandy hair would match the storm in her eyes when she got mad.

 

It's kind of a stupid thing to think of on your figurative deathbed, but I forgot to clean out the storage room at home. It was full of childhood memories and trophies and pictures. I'm pretty sure there is a 'World's Greatest Mom' mug stuffed in there somewhere, which is a bit of a lie. I hated my mother. She picked favourites. She loved my little brother more than she did me. He was the star of the family: an A+ student, a charmer, an athlete, musically talented. And me? Oh, I'm no one. I'm not good enough. I'm a B+. I was so close. Well, that doesn't really matter much now, does it? After all blood is thicker than water.

'Blood is thicker than water' A very common misconception is that it means family over friends when in reality it was derived from the old saying 'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb' meaning the relations formed by choice are stronger than those formed by birth. See, not everyone is born with perfect loving parents.

I try not to think about this often and I'm stopping now.

 

Only as darkness takes over my vision do I realise how pointless life is. How you treat your neighbour won't lessen the number of stars dying just to become black holes. Giving planets names and numbers won't stop the collision of the Milky Way and Andromeda Galaxies in tens of billions of years. And money is the most meaningless of all. Money is just slices of dead trees with ink bled into them. And yet, money is the thing that determines whether you live in big comfortable, warm sculptures of stones, concrete, wood and whatever else; or it determines that you will starve to death because you couldn't obtain dead animals and plants by trading them for your ink-paper to feed yourself.

 

Our lives are the stupidest things of all.

 

But, in absolute honesty, that's what I love about our little planet. We function completely independently from the rest of the universe. We only need our tiny solar system and we're good to go. I love that we're curious wee creatures that have our heads in the clouds and our hands reaching out for the stars. That the simplest things can give us joy, for instants we think that the giant ball of gas we orbit coming up over our horizon is romantic. And I love the names we give things: Romance, meaning a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love; Love meaning a deep seeded feeling of affection. All of these are just ink on paper, a few lines of computer code, a string of sounds that would make no sense on other worlds or coming from the mouths of other species, but for us it means everything.

 

I feel bad for hating my brother for no good reason, for cursing my mother thousands of times, for picking on some of the kids at my old high school, for getting mad at my girlfriend about things she can't help doing, for pulling the fire alarm at school when I was eight just to get out of the spelling bee and blaming my best friend at the time, and, for all of the same reasons, I don't feel bad. Because I'm not a blank piece of paper. I've had ink, coffee, mud, food, sweat and blood spilled on me. I'm not plain, I am who I am.

 

And I'm... slipping away. I can death's cold, claw-like fingers picking at my soul as if it were a delicate and expensive material, slowly and gently tugging. I might as well say goodbye. I'm not sure to whom, but I can try. I can still remember the last thing my girlfriend to me “You are such a jerkface!” she's so adorable. I think I'll miss her the most. I was going to propose to her soon, but I'm pretty bad with schedules. I think my goodbye is dedicated to her. Goodbye, Ella. I hope you loved me as much as I did you and I loved you very much.

 

I'm losing my memories. I can't remember Ella's face, her voice, her eyes, her everything. I don't know who Ella is. Why am I thinking of her? I can't remember who my mother is. I can't remember if I had a mother, a father, siblings. Did I have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? I don't know. How did I get here? Why can't I hear? Am I deaf and blind? With no sense of feeling or taste or smell? I don't know what's wrong.

 

I'm floating around in a void of darkness with only my thoughts and an inkling feeling that I won't be much linger.

 

Everything is so quiet.

 

 

 

I'm still here.

By TeeCee.


© Copyright 2018 Teecee. All rights reserved.

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