His eyes dragged across the pavement, same as always, never looking up to see the world. He thought to himself to fuck this life, but always seemed to add not literally as if to cheer himself up by his selfless witty humour. He chuckled at his attempt. He’d heard this attempt of his many a time, over and over, day after fucking day, he thought.

The main question constantly on his mind, was why on earth am i still alive? I barely have food each day, barely drank anything that could be deemed healthy, and most of all, barely have a great amount of human contact which, of course, is needed to stop me going insane. Well, at least I get some, even if it isnt of the friendly type. Ah, but at least it was some. It was contact…

During his monotonous day, he would look back on his life, comparing it to the lives of the passers by, and in his head, he came to the conclusion their lives must’ve been utter perfection. Still, he was glad, in a way, that he was indeed alive. But then, after constantly thinking about it, when he occasionally passed the newspaper stand in the local papershop and saw the most recent death, perhaps, or the most recent kidnapping, he was ashamed of being alive. He was ashamed that his old soul was alive and kicking, while the young are dead. Dead and buried, he thought, which is what I should be by now. He was sure a life could be spared if he just… jumped. Jumped off the edge of the bloody world, he spoke accidently.

And before he could stop him, a harsh-looking young boy was stood near his face, his peers gradually crowding round.

“What did you say to me? Did you say something, you fucking scum? You shouldn’t even be breathing!”

The ragged old man grabbed his heart.

All for the greater good, he whispered, as his last breath was hurried away.



Joined March 2008

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