I shivered on instinct as the clock struck 11:00.
My roommate was out on a date- lucky her. I couldn’t recall ever looking into a mirror and liking what I saw, so naturally I’d never be able to date anybody.
She was attractive where I was heinous. She was kind where I was cruel- an instinct instilled in me from my upbringing.
She was cheerful where I lacked the capability to be happy, much less smile.
Knowing she wasn’t going to be back anytime soon, but half hoping she would arrive early, I pulled out my shoddy homemade spinner. Terrible in appearance, not unlike myself.
I was rueful at the outcome of tonight’s events, but not entirely surprised.
While my roommate would be out having the time of her life with some cute guy, I would be making a game out of my demise.
The spinner had four categories: “Knife”, “Pills”, “Jump”, and “Rope”. When the clock struck eleven, I gave the spinner a timid flick. It landed on “Pills”. I marked a tally for that category.
The four sections were equal, and it reminded me of probability, from an ages-old math class.
Reasonably, I’d get the same amount of tallies for each section, but in reality, the sections would differ, given my spinning the toy for a straight hour. Not that I’d ever liked math.
By 11:15, “Knife” was in the lead. My finger just kept flicking, flicking. “Pills” seemed the least painful out of the four, but it didn’t seem like I’d get off that easy.
After a while, my left index finger and thumb went numb from all the flicking, but it was a solid routine. Flick, tally, flick…
By 11:48- the exact time of my birth from what seemed like a million years ago, “Rope” was in the lead, meaning I’d be leaving behind not just an ugly corpse,
but a bluefaced one with a broken neck. I kept flicking.
By 11:50, "Pills" had the most tallies.
At midnight, "Jump" held the most tallies at fifty-eight.
As I'd suspected, my untimely departure was not to be an easy one. Some part of my inner being that wanted me to live was willing to listen to music, just forget the entire thing.
But I wasn't blowing it off this time. One song didn't become two, five, twenty. It was the one song, and when it gently concluded, I marched towards my death with steeled resolve.
People often ponder the meaning of life. Others know that the meaning of life is happiness, selfishly acquired or otherwise.
Without happiness, the meaning of life is lost, and thus the existence of emptiness should be cut short out of mercy. That's what I convinced myself, anyway.
Time sped by without regard for me, yet I was staring out into the night landscape in what felt like the blink of an eye.
Sardonic barks of mine were swallowed by the traffic ambience, reminding me I was nothing special.
Breathing deep, I flew.