Live again

The man remembered when he was as young as twenty-one. So full of life and pretentious, unfiltered confidence. Who wore Nirvana shirts every day and baggy denim jeans that was low enough to show the crack of his bum over his checkered briefs. He wasn't a man then, he was just a boy. A boy with a zest for life. A boy who went through the trailer park beds of hippies on Music Festivals only because he thought it was cool. A boy that smoked weed on abandoned playgrounds with ghetto potheads and tattooed bikers. A boy that thought the world was his oyster and his alone. A boy so arrogant that one day, just one day he could rule it.

Only he didn't. Cut to a two decades later. Alone. With a head full of white hair and rancid breath of ashtrays and alcohol. With empty pockets, head full of bitterness and heart full of regret. For there was so much to be regretful for. Like driving drunk one friday night and waking up in a hospital with a jacked-up car, broken ribs and mountain of debt. Or running away from home and quitting college just because all his friends were doing it, only he was homesick as hell and by the time he decided to come back, his family didn't want him no more. Or deciding to be roomates with a guy that worked behind Taco Bell, who eventually stole all his shit when he finally found a way to get by. Or falling in love with a red-haired hippie, who was tiny enough to fit in his pocket but with a heart big enough for him to smash and tear to pieces.

The man still has the memories of those wilder years strewn across his shitty apartment complex. Because that was all he had, memories. A typewritting machine lay dusty and overused on the days that he decided taking a shot at being a wannabee J.R.R Tolkein when shitty fantasy novels were cool. A pair of faded, worn converse that he dragged though mud and hell during Music Festivals. A Nirvana poster that was hanging limp on one corner and with a faded red signature on the other. A framed picture of the red-haired hippie smiling in dreads and carefree happiness. Last he heard of her, she got knocked up with some Wallstreet guy and got a picture of their wedding in newspapers across New York and Arizona.

The man was looking fondly at the picture and at the room around him, with it's tattered wallpaper and stained ceiling. Slowly he thumbed the gun on the table and with almost a serene peacefulness, raised it to his temple.

bang!bang!bang!

-went his door. The man let out an annoyed grunt and strode over to it, ready to cuss out whoever was on the other side. But when he swung the door wide open, there was no one on the other side, just a fake looking lamp that somehow looked more priceless than all his shit combined.

The man kicked his combat boots to the metal and heard it ricochet from the other side , off the wall to the floor, then somehow rolling to a stop at his feet.

The man let out a groan of frustration and was ready to pick it up and dump it in the trash when he heard it. Not out loud but almost a faraway voice. Like it was echoing in his brain, a quality of layers of angelic voices on top of one another.

Wish a wish. A wish to wash all your misery away. A wish to wish to answer. A wish to answer your problems. Wish a wish.

The man let out an incredulous sigh. This was finally it, he was going mad. A part of him definitely wanted to consider the possibility of it but after all the shittyness in his life, why now did the great high-and-mighty God decide to intervene now.

The man was ready to throw it away but then hesitated. What has he got to lose now? He was just going to kill himself, what's one more disappointment to the countless ones he already experienced? With a deep inhale and labored exhale, he closed his eyes. In the darkness he could see it all. His family, his books, the pot, the party, the festivals, the red-haired girl he once loved.

Then with all the weight on his chest and pressure in his heart, he said into the dimly lit hallway of his apartment, "I want to know how to live again..."

hehehehe, i went over the limit but i couldnt help it