October 2, 2010
She needed to know. It wasn’t hatred, and it wasn’t fear. It was curiosity. She’d always wondered, but now she could know the truth. She just had to pull the trigger.

She had thought it through; if there wasn’t anything after the bullet, then she wouldn’t be able to care. But if there was a heaven; if there was a hell, everything would have meaning. The meaning of life was what she sought out of this. Her curiosity had eaten her soul, her mind, and her life, and she just couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t fair to her, or humanity. Why would God let humans wander through their lives, clueless? There was no obvious answer; perhaps there was no answer. It could only be known to the dead.

Death was a key, a key to the answers that she was so desperate for, and there was no more reason for her life. She wanted to believe in a purpose, but she just couldn’t. There was no reason to believe that, and that was why she had to do this.

She got a better hold on the gun; it felt uncomfortable in her grasp. She had to grab it again every few seconds because of the sweat that was letting the gun slip through her hands. As she moved the gun around, it rubbed on her temples, taunting her to get it through with. The gap in the middle of the gun would probably leave a mark on her head. Then she remembered what she was doing, and thought, ‘That won’t be what’s leaving the mark’. She imagined the feeling of immense pressure as she felt her skull crack when the bullet entered. No, the key. This wasn’t the end, it was the solution. Her happy ending. But the human in her still begged for life, and for a second, it overcame her. She started to lower the gun from her head.

“No,” she said out loud. The gun was back at her right temple. She couldn’t listen to the mundane part of her mind. That only wanted her to survive. She had to fight it; the thought side of her mind had to overpower her instinct, and let her finish what she had started.

Her finger longed to pull the trigger. It would soon get its wish. She just had to think things through one last time.

Would the blood from her head stain the floor? She looked down. No, hardwood. She was in the kitchen.
Did she leave the note on the table? Yes, it was there. She didn’t want her mom to live with any more mystery than life came with. Everything was in there: why, how, when, why again, reassurance, love. Her mother needed to know these things.

She heard the car in the driveway.


Her mom could not see this. She realized that death was about to be achieved. All of her questions, answered in a matter of seconds. What could be more joyous? What could be more satisfying?

The car door opened.

Just a little longer, she needed a second. Take it all in. This would be the end of living in the dark, or for that matter, living at all.

There were steps on the deck.

She smiled. This was her decision, and she was happy with it. She was happier than she thought possible; her smile grew wider.

Keys rattled.

She embraced life one last time. It was glorious, wonderful, but the ignorance took over. How did people do it? Live on, clueless. She looked through her eyes and took in the world, and how complex and beautiful it is. She would know the purpose behind it in a simple move of the finger.

But this was it.

It was true; her life flashed before her eyes. The Christmas when she finally got the doll that she wanted; her piano recital when she ran out, weeping, because she missed a note. She stopped; this was pointless. This was time to get over these memories, because they didn't matter. This was the end. She was done with this pointless life, and ready to find out what it meant.

The doorknob turned.

One last look.

She pulled the trigger.
. . .


Why had death not come? She should feel enlightened right about now; she should know why she was ever born. This was horrible, everything was ruined. What had she done wrong? She loaded the gun, and made sure that it had worked. Then she realized the flaw. In her constant thought of killing herself to find the meaning of life, and finally achieving death, she had never once thought to take off the safety.

The door opened.
. . .

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