Time Never Heals the Broken

June 7, 2012
By Anonymous

The minutes go by really slowly, I stay up while I hear the clocks freaking tic-tac every second. I’ve been alone for far too long and this loneliness makes the minutes go by even slower. This loneliness makes me drown in a sea of bitterness. I sometimes think of accepting these bitter days and accept the fact that my soul will suffer, this way at least I will suffer in peace. Most of the times I think that there are more things I can do, change the situation, but the moment I stand up to do something I fall flat on my butt.
I am sitting playing a game of chess with my sad shade, in my little apartment in Broadway, where uninvited war images invade my mind. It was not my war, but the war had spilled into our home. It happened really quickly really, we were having lunch in the garden. Then BOOM. Smoke, fire dirt, blood, pain. I tried to stand up, but couldn’t. I was looking at him when it all happened. I watched him collapse on top of the cold and lonely dirt. I secretly wish I could have swapped places with him. My dominant, evil side says this because I want to escape from this solitude and not have this dilemma right now. At the same time, my good side speaks from inside and decides that my true intentions where that I wanted to save him, not just because I do not want to be alone, but also because I want him to live these emotions, to live, and to live with me. Even though it is lonely, it is still living. After my 12 year old sons death, all I had left where my birds. Those filthy, dumb birds. I hated them so much, but they would become the main attraction in my day, how can I be so self minded and hate what makes my day have a little surprise? So now I only have my birds, which come and go as they please every day. I’ve been living 12 years with these chaotic ideas growing inside my head and my revenge wish grows deeper and angrier. I go out the window and I watch kids playing on the streets, my brilliant mind and I! I always wonder these amazing and eloquent thoughts about life, being a 90-year-old man who is healthy and conscious. I can say that this skill has taken me nowhere, and therefore it has not been the best “gift” or “skill” in my long life. I am tired and old, I am crippled, but not sick and I am tired. I am tired of this life that takes more from me and does not give back. You may wonder if my friends or family visit me, well I tell you that you waste your time asking this because seeing my tragic dilemma in life you can assume that there has to be a problem with my relatives because if there weren’t, I would not be as miserable as I am right now. To complete what it is expected of me from this summary of my life, slash my miserable life story, I will tell my tragic situation. I had twelve friends: younger, same age, older. My friends, those few I had, have all long passed away. Not really tragedy there, just life I guess. I said goodbye in their last moments, smiles and jokes. My family is another story. I was an only child and lost my parents really young. I grew alone until I found Beatrice. A young prostitute living in the streets near some cheap hotel. She did not say much, but the fact that she loved me for what I own disgusted me and amazed me at the same time. The capacity to love someone, show these feelings to someone you have never meet moved me in a way I did not think possible. I asked her to marry me that same night and she said yes. Even though I do not think she fully understood what I purposed to her, she accepted and I left with her that night to Broadway. She died with my 12-year-old son in a bombing. Well, as I lost my right arm, right leg and most of my face, I can’t say that I am a happy person, that I survived the hard part in life, that this situation showed me what’s important in life. It didn’t. I am miserable and I hate my life because of that bombing. It changed everything I am, I will never be the same and ever since that day I have wanted to end my life. I really do not understand how or why I continued with my life. I guess that even my life couldn’t be more disgusting; I will always try to live a little longer in their honor. Its simple really, they died and I lived. There has to be a meaning in that, right? I finally conclude that my life has been lived its fullest and another day or week living will not give me an important life experience. With this, I say goodbye since a friend didn’t want to take me with him, but I will make him take me since this is not his choice anymore.
He dropped the pencil next to him as he finished the letter he had written. It took him exactly 12 days to finish this letter. He read it onc¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬e, twice, three times. He was satisfied. He sat with peace because he had accepted his miserable life. He took the shotgun pointed it at his head. Started at the window and say the birds.
“Disgusting creatures, hope you die soon as well. My turn to choose when I want to leave this world is here. Here I come my dark friend, hope you don’t get so angry, but I really want to see my 12 friends, my wife, and my 12 year old son.”

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