My insides churn like a new galaxy is forming. Billions of tons of matter slam into each other creating energies that can only exist at the heart of the universe’s most violent affairs. Passing light slows to admire the brilliance of what happens in here. Observers millions of light-years away will watch these events unfold in the future and wonder if anything survived.
Man, I’m hungry.
My skin is on fire, So I just slip out the back and watch my body burn from the corner. The shadows racing back and forth across the floor makes me giggle, they're so silly. It's like they're dancing to the crackling sounds of the flames breaking my skin apart. The shadows get taller as the light sinks when my body falls to its knees, and then to the floor. The shadows dance less as they grow. Now they're tall and solemn, like they've become old men dawned from the husks of dancing youths. The main fire has passed on and my carcass is just smoldering now, with a subtle orange glow. The room is barely lit at all and the shadows have become barely noticeable they're so faint. They stand still, like headstones. Soon they fade away completely, and darkness overtakes the room.
As I leave the room, I wonder if my new body-less life will have the same blueprint: Dancing youth, Solemn elder, Fade to black.
It’s been twenty six hours since my last one. They said quitting would be hard, but I never thought it’d be like this. Every person I see grates on me like a playground slide made of nails. I have elaborate fantasies of grabbing each and every person by the neck and pressing my thumbs into their throat until I see their eyes go all foggy breathless.
The bank is probably not the best place to be when I’m this degree of on edge, I know, but banking has to be done. As I approach the teller, my fists already hurt from balling them up so tight, trying to find some release for the tension.
Just one more, I thought, that’d be a release.
I tucked that thought away and handed over the deposit bag. The teller opened it up and dumped out all of the checks and bills and started to count. Damn, I thought, she’s slow. I could count those bills faster with boxing gloves on. I could feel the tension rising again. I grabbed the edge of the counter and started to squeeze, anything to bleed out the rage. The fake pressed wood creaked under the stress, and after a few moments, broke away from the desk completely. The teller, with her fat stupid face, stared at me with a face that nudged me just over the edge. When she opened her mouth to say something in what I can only imagine was the most annoying and nasally voice ever to exit a person, I took the opportunity to jam the wood in my hands right through her skull.
Boy that felt good. Talk about a tension breaker. As I looked down at the lifeless body before me, I thought that unlike that one twenty six hours ago, this really does have to be my last one, so I should savor it.
