40.

There was once a guy who fell ill, mentally. At least that’s what they say. Every single day, at seven pm, he took his revolver, loaded it with a single round, and spun the barrell; Russian roulette. He did this for one year, a leap year, three hundred and sixty-six days. They said he was so lucky, even went as far to say he was the luckiest man alive, that the bullet never spun in his favor, until the three hundred and sixty-seventh day, when the bullet finally met his brain. He was found the next day, the three hundred and sixty-eighth day at his home, his body laying in front of his bedroom mirror. He looked calm, or as calm as a person could look without a face. That’s what they told me. And they make me sad. And he makes me sad. And I am sad, but there’s nothing I can do about it. And he proved that.
It actually makes me very mad that they said he was lucky because he didn’t die. I think that makes him very unlucky. He was so unlucky that even when he tried to end his bad streak, more bad came and he had to go on another day of his s****y life, waiting for seven pm to roll around again, just like the barrell. I don’t understand why anyone could possibly think that is lucky. They also told me that no one really tried to “help” him. Everybody in town knew of his situation, at least those that were old enough and those that could eavesdrop. It was really no secret. But there was no one to help. No one to lend their ears. No one to even pretend to care about him. And that’s what made him lucky and why I can justify why they say he is lucky, because he didn’t have anyone or anything to hold him back from what he wanted most; death. I still don’t agree with them but that’s what they told me, so that’s what I’m telling you.
I can’t introduce myself. I know that will make you mad and not want to listen to what I am about to tell you, but I ask that you at least hear me and maybe you will understand why you can’t know who I am. I have another request: never think superficially about what I tell you. I know you won’t, but I have to remind you not to so you don’t forget. I know that because you are reading this, you often forget. Just please remember that and I will never regret telling you anything (except maybe a little, but that’s only short term and I am referring to long term). I know this is the right thing to do, even if it makes me seem like a terrible, awful person. I have to. I hope you understand, I really do. I just couldn’t let it go without someone there to understand my rationale, even if they only pretended to understand.
I am fairly certain that on the very first day everything came together; everything fell apart simultaneously. We live in a world where order is something we strive for, but know we can never achieve. We live in a world where we say one thing but really mean another. We live in a world where we have made up everything we know and are okay with it. The world we live in keeps me up at night and makes me slightly nauseous. I don’t understand how it makes me feel these things when at the same time, it makes someone else feel other things. I know we are not linked and that we are separate conscious beings, but I don’t know why. I don’t think anyone does and if they do, they are being laughed at and ridiculed. It might be because they thought of it first and others are just jealous, but it is more likely that they were actually being ridiculous and wanted attention. I hope you realize that was a very sad comment I just made and I hope you understand why.

Everything in this world- this universe, is temporary. Everything that lives, dies. What goes up must come down. Everything we work for, every accomplishment and advancement we make, is ultimately for naught. It really annoys the hell out of me that we can't make temporary things permanent, but they told me that was the most beautiful thing about the way we live, so I am telling you. I'm honestly very confused on how this could be, because there has to be something to live for and if all of this is temporary, I don't understand why we live or place importance on the things we do. Shouldn't we be searching for permanence instead of striving for five second glory? It doesn't make any sense at all to me and that is why I am here and not there and I promise that it is for the best.

I don't go to school, not anymore. I used to, but they said it wasn't the right path for me. Actually, they said I wasn't on the right path and I think that's a bunch of bullshit. I was just trying to explain myself and why I was in a car on school property during school hours but not actually in school. I tried rationalizing with them, because I did technically go to school, I just didn't go to class. I was even there before school started, so I wasn't late or anything. I probably would've been there way past the time when school let out, but they found me before then. They asked if I was on drugs or had been drinking and I told them no, which is partially true. I was, in fact, on drugs, but they were prescribed for me so I didn't think that it mattered. The school was aware of it and so were the people inside of school. And I just missed class one day and they said I wasn't on the right path.

There wasn’t much after that day. There wasn’t much happiness or smiling or sadness or tears or anger or shouting; there was nothing. Emotions didn’t exist anymore and everything was numb. The colors outside faded, the voices went mute, the pictures blurred, the days passed. I didn’t know where I was, but they told me that I had been in the same place for ten days and I didn’t move and I don’t believe them, but that’s what they told me, so that’s why I’m telling you. I can only remember the knocks on the doors, in a drawn out pattern, and a light that followed. But I wasn’t in the white cube with no windows, I was everywhere. The world was no longer below my feet, because I hovered six feet above. It was sweet intoxication and I could not be satiated, but I guess I wasn’t anywhere but where I had started. That’s the thing about being on the wrong path, no matter how far you go, you always end up right back where you started. But I didn’t really mind the journey or how I relapsed back into reality. It was beautiful. And I started to understand what they meant. I still don’t understand why they meant it, but I am getting clearer and they are fading away.

I would like to take this time to say that I am not a dumb kid. I scored well on test and did most of my homework, I just didn’t score well in school. Every day I would walk into the building and sit down in my desk for first period English at 7:33. From that point on, I don’t remember much. I had highway hypnosis except for the fact that I was not on the highway, I was at school. My teachers must have assumed I never listened because I had a blank look on my face as they gave lectures about classical civilizations, logarithms, hydrogen bonds, and the ever important comma. I’ll be honest when I say I wasn’t interested in that stuff, but I’m also being honest when I say that I soaked up every goddamn word they had to say. It’s frustrating when information that I think is important gets replaced with information they say matters. Useless, that’s all it’ll ever be.

Everybody is very concerned about what matters. They define mattering by what is taught in school and life lessons at the end of bad holiday movies. They define mattering by making examples of things that don’t matter and reading far too deep into the opposite. They define mattering by their own personal beliefs, so we can’t understand why it matters. I have never gotten this concept, myself, and I don’t think I ever will. What matters to me differs vastly from what matters to you and even though we are currently reading the same words, they matter differently to each of us. That’s why I asked you not read superficially and I surely do hope that you haven’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you. And I would feel infinitely indebted to you.

After I left school, which means I got kicked out, I didn’t return home. It’s not because I was scared of what people would say or that I would be in trouble. It’s because they were partially correct in stating that I wasn’t on the right path. I wasn’t. There couldn’t be any combination of possibilities that made it okay inside of me to go back to that goddamned place with those condescending looks from those supercilious, no good, everybodies. I couldn’t do it and I know that if you were there, you wouldn’t have been able to do it either. So I left. I drove fast. And I drove straight. And I covered the rear view mirror. And it was marvelous to see the world in color for the first time. It’s too bad it didn’t last. Beautiful things never do.

The first night I wondered a lot. I was being skeptical, which isn’t unusual for me, but I was being skeptical alone. I sat on the hood on my car, looking up at the stars. It was a cliche moment that one might see in movies that I despise. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t amazing. So there I was, speaking circles to myself. I wasn’t lonely, I just enjoyed my own company. I often enjoy my own company. It was really just a typical night for me. Except I was being cliche and I hate myself for doing that. They say that life’s too short to be anybody but yourself, and I also hate myself for agreeing with them. But I have yet hear a truer cliche than that, and they told that, so I am telling you. Sometimes it’s okay to be cliche and look at the stars and talk circles to yourself. And sometimes it’s okay to be alone but not be lonely. And sometimes it’s okay to not do any of that and just sleep. And sometimes it’s just okay.

At this point, I am inclined to tell you what happened before this, before all of this. I am not quite sure where to start, but I am certain that you need to know. Okay. Once, I was about five and I was spinning on a merry-go-round at the park that belonged to the apartments on my street. It was once new and vibrant, sleek pieces of blue and yellow and red metal formed the circular platform while tubes of cold brushed aluminum made the handles. At least, I can only assume that’s how it looks. So there I was, approximately five years old, spinning on a once beautiful, now old, faded, rusty, and muted merry-go-round. I screamed in excitement and closed my eyes because the wind was hurting them. When I would open them, I would see a tall figure dressed in denim and white tennis shoes. I told them to spin me faster, even though I was about to puke, and they spun me faster. Eventually, I had to stop screaming because my voice hurt and I could open my eyes because the wind was slower than I was. All of a sudden, the world that was once blurred was clear. I could see colors and hear noises and smell scents. I was no longer nauseous because I was invincible. I was spinning that fast and it was euphoric. Then I slowed down and I could scream again and I had to close my eyes because the wind was faster than I was. The world was blurry and I had to puke. At that very moment, I understood.

When the merry-go-round finally came to slow and drawn out halt, I had to stay in the center of the faded, cold metal platform for what seemed to be hours. The picture I saw would not stop spinning. The denim figure hovered above me and I had to ask them to move, except I asked the wrong one because there was three on them. I looked at the one on the right because I thought since that picture was faded the most, my brain was playing tricks on me. In reality, it was my mind that played tricks, but I think they understood because they moved anyways and I saw the clouds move in ways that Mother Nature would envy. I also saw the birds fly as if they were dodging bullets and the leaves moved against the wind. From that day forward, I tried my very hardest to recreate that moment. It took me millions of spins on that very same merry-go-round and thousands of hours to understand that the combination of innocence, euphoria, and nausea were not something that simply just happened. It was that complex, yet simple, combination of things that made it possible for my eyes to open and to be able to see, and I mean really see, things that everybody sees every day. The catch was, I didn’t see the sky or clouds or birds, or leaves as me; I saw them as someone else. I don’t know who that someone was, but I hope they realize how lucky they are.

Author's Note

Because it was written for NaNoWriMo, it's not as finely tuned as I'd like it to be. Please leave any comments that you have, whether it be about the story, structure, grammar, anything. I'd love to hear the honest (and possibly brutal) truth about the work. It's only the beginning (first 2k+ words).

Reviews

[John Sharp]

I liked the beginning with the revolver. That was very interesting, but i'm afraid some the language lost me like this"I know you won’t, but I have to remind you not to so you don’t forget. I know that because you are reading this, you often forget. Just please remember that and I will never regret telling you anything" had a hard time following your meaning. I do like "I can’t introduce myself" adds a nice bit of mystery to the story. I'm not sure who the "they" were referring to tho, over all farily interesting story.

[Lucy]

You as in you. Think "Perks of Being A Wallflower," you. As if this person was telling you a story. "They" are introduced towards the middle of the full story, so I can understand the confusion. Thank you for your honest opinion!