The Thoughts Of Two Dying Men

The headline screamed, "God! Not again!". The photo beneath it showed a man, lying in a pool of blood. Another man knelt beside him but the dying man showed no response. One look at his eyes and you knew he was gone. He was gone, yet there was still so much to read within those eyes. His face was familiar, it had been plastered across magazines newspapers and tabloids for years. A Senator, brother to the slain President, shown here, dying, in the morning news.

Minutes before, he had been greeting supporters, smiles and handshakes all around. His face beamed to match the faces of those around him. He just received news that he had won over California in the presidential primaries. He turns to greet another beaming face when it hits. Three shots, a fourth tearing through his jacket. Two to the head, one through the arm. He hits the floor and the people swarm. A scuffle occurs nearby as his friends and bodyguards wrestle the man with the gun to the floor. A circle opens up and the Senator is displayed. A man crouches near him, attempting to stop the bleeding. Cameras flicker.

What went through the mind of this man as he lay there, two bullets in his brain? Did he think, Oh God, what is happening? Was I just shot am I dying? Or did he know, did he know that he was about to die? Did he think of his killer and wish pain upon him? Did he think to try and stand? Did he think of his brother, slain five years before? Or his children, all ten, soon to be eleven, or his wife, his smiling blonde haired wife... Were his thoughts of his country? Did he wonder at who might take his place in the election, his seat in the Senate? Or was he gone the moment the shots were fired.

The man doesn't truly die until 26 hours later, in a hospital on June 6 1968. Yet you look at the photograph...and see that he is already gone.




It's dark. The street is empty, save for one; a young man in a ragged jacket, tousled hair and unshaven face. He stumbles down the sidewalk, bottle in hand. The neighborhood is derelict. Houses with broken windows and boarded doors flank the bare streets. Drunken thoughts play dice in the mans head, making foolish gambles and losing every time. He walks the streets at an early hour and sees no one.

Old memories glimmer within the alcohol haze. A birthday party, smiles and cake. His father, fist upraised.

The man takes another swallow of the vodka in his hand. He revels in the burn as it scrapes its way down his throat.

More memories. His mother crying at the table, bills all around and no money to spare. Long, hungry nights spent in parks and under bridges. His father again, the fist swinging down to meet the huddled form of his mother.

Bitter tears prick the corners of his eyes and etch a burning path down his cheeks.

An angry teen takes a swing at his father. The same teen is thrown against a wall. A woman screams. And screams. And screams.

The man is downtown. Blinding lights leave spots in his eyes. He pushes through the crowds, barely listening to their frenzied conversation.

Dead? He can't be...
How can he be alive, he was shot in the head twice-
I won't believe it-
Just like his brother-
Tragic-

Women were sobbing, men were shaking their heads and everyone looked panicked.

Kennedy? Bobby Kennedy? It can't be
He just won California in the primaries!
Who's the bastard that shot him, I swear I'll kill him

The man didn't know who Bobby Kennedy was or why he was so important. He drank more and continued on.

A teen living on the streets, scavenging and stealing to stay alive. Prison. Six months in, nine out, a year back in, three years out, three months and here he was. Walking in Los Angeles, not a penny to his name and a closet full of ghosts.

He wandered down the alleys, stumbling the whole way. He was awfully tired. Hadn't slept well in months.

There was a slight breeze on the warm June night. He reached a bridge. Cars roared across it, but barely registered in the young man's mind. He swallowed the last of the vodka, gritting his teeth while it burned.

A life of nothing. That's what he had. No family, no friends, no money, no job. Nothing. Filled with sudden fury, the man screamed. All his frustration, all his hate, all of his resentment was poured out in one agonizing breath. He flung the empty bottle off into the dark water.

There was stillness. He stopped and listened. He could feel his heart pound on every inch of his skin. He felt alive, truly alive, and in a moment of clarity mounted the rail of the bridge and stepped off.

Dear Friday,

Um...come back in two weeks? Kthxbai.

Schedule for Friday is as follows...

7:11am Breakfast Club
9:15am Donate blood
10:30am Precalc quiz on trigonometric functions D:
11:45am Art History quiz
3:30pm One Act Meeting
3:30pm Italian
6:30 call for Once Upon a Mattress

Schedule for Thursday makes this stuff a problem...

8:25-11:05am Class
11:05-6:30pm Intense study session. Massive amounts of information need to be ingested an comprehended. Like, all trigonometric functions, 80 or so images for art history, plus vocabulary terms and central and basilican church plans.
6:30-10pm? Once Upon A Mattress. So, little sleep for the craziness that will ensue on Friday.

Ack. This uh...won't be fun. Maybe I'll go to bed early tonight. After I finish writing a page of bullshit for American history. Oh right, I just remembered, I need to have all 44 presidents memorized by Friday also. Huzzah.

Dear Puppeteer,

I wish more people could see who you really are. You are cold and you are manipulative. I watched that tonight, in that little microcosm I saw it, plain as day. And I saw how no one else did. They were amused little sheep and you were the crafty herder.

It was an impressive display don't get me wrong. But how can you justify that? In a game, it's fine, that's what that game is all about, but that isn't where it ends with you. It's cruel to continue playing a game after the game has finished and people no longer know they are playing.

You are the puppet master and they are the puppets. With a twitch of the line they dance, a sharp tug and they fall. You place yourself above people. In your own mind, you are above others. You watch as they swirl and tumble and you nudge them, here and there. You play God. How can you do that? How do you not see the cruelty? There is no reason to be that way. I've no objection to you sitting above people, watching, but when you intervene and push them to do your bidding, that I have a problem with.

Consider someone other than yourself once. Only once. And imagine yourself in their position.

Post Script.

Sometimes...I'm just waiting for someone to ask the right question.

Dear Reader,

I am a coward. I was tagged one of those chain notes on facebook, you know the kind. I thought, hey, neat concept, but I lack the courage to actually post 16 things people don't know about me because they don't know them because I don't want them to. Oh well.
Dear sporadic reader,
I hope you enjoy reading these things few people know.

1. I have no faith. In anyone or anything. Living without faith is not an enjoyable thing and I am trying desperately to correct this.
2. TWLOHA Day only makes me more depressed. It's....it seems like a fad. How many people actually take the time to think about what it truly means. Writing love on your arm means almost nothing. It's a cute reminder but the marker or pen or whatever washes away and nothing is accomplished.
3. I am terribly afraid of falling in love again. I feel like if it happens again soon, I'll run away. As far as I can, just so I won't be hurt again.
4. I hate being alone.
5. I also hate how much of a hypocrite I can be.
6. I don't think I ever want children. I am too afraid that I won't love them or they won't love me or they'll grow up to be horrible little people.
7. I love teaching. I love it I love it I love it. I love the rush of joy I recieve from helping a child grasp a new concept.
8. My ultimate dream in life, is to start a refugee school for young children in the Middle East with their families. The school would be somewhere in Europe, Scotland hopefully :D, and I could then teach and help many many people. It would be beautiful. It's unlikely, but...I enjoy spending time in that daydream.
9. I am terrified of next year, when all of my close friends are gone. I don't know who I'll call when I need to be with someone I don't know who I'll talk to about things....It won't be fun....
10. I don't dare post more.

Dear ___?

I was almost there. I was so close to being done with this mess. I felt whole again and boy was it wonderful. For the first time in months, maybe a year, I could see the future clearly, I believed I had a future. I was no longer surprised that I had made it this far. I was ready to never feel surprised about waking up in the morning. Then....Then I don't know what happened.

Relapse. Total and utter relapse. Square one, game over, restart. Out of remission, enter malignant stage.

Maybe my remission was a fluke. A simple, easily explained fluke brought on by discovering a place I could possibly belong. A beautiful university in Scotland, far from all of this... It's perfect. Brimming with history, it's 600 years old, set near the coast in a stunning medieval setting. And it was attainable too. I could do it I could make it there. Get accepted to a mediocre university in Michigan and I'm there. I was filled with love, a new love of a place I've never visited but a place where I've known since I was young that I would be happy. Why the past tense? Why am I using past tense when I know full well that I could achieve my dream? I think...I think I lost faith. Again. Faith in myself. I lost faith that I can continue on my chosen path or any path for that matter.

I envy people who have faith. Any type of faith, faith in a deity, faith in another person, faith in themselves. I have a complete lack of faith. I don't need to believe in a deity, I'm far too cynical for that. But I envy those who have someone else they can put their faith in. I...I envy their ability to trust. I can't trust anyone anymore. I'm unable. It's not "I won't trust" it's "I can't trust". I can't trust therefore I can't have faith which means I can't.....I just can't. I want to, I need to find someone I can put all of my trust in but there aren't any in sight. I picture it in my head and all I see is me divulging everything to them and them leaving me. Again... I can't have that happen again, it would be too much I would break. I would fall and be crushed and never get back up. People who read this might claim that they're trustworthy, they can handle it, but... I don't have faith in that... because I can't trust...

Which brings me back to you. You, the one who left me this way. I think I hate you. But, I don't want to admit that because I believe to truly hate someone you first have to love them and I don't want to love you. You have proved yourself undeserving yet it remains. Die? Please? Something. I hope your new love crushes your heart and then you realize you're gay. Perfect solution. It'll never happen. That was immature I apologize. But I meant every word. Karma karma karma...

Mania. I might be insane. Distinct possibility.

This is circular. Cyclical. Once you're in a circle, how do you get out? Going round a track you never reach the end. Now what....jump it? How? Or maybe you walk around and around and around until you've worn down the path and reached China? China is far enough away, maybe I'll go there. Scotland would be optimal though.

Maybe I'm just tired. Weary, worn down from constantly thinking about this. I want to leave this town. Skip the next two years, jump forward to the future I already have planned. This is just fluff. Unnecessary fluff.

Digression.

Love is a latent blood virus. First, you feel fine. Better even. But then the virus becomes active. It rips you apart from the inside. It hurts all over and doesn't fade. But what's the cure? Another, more powerful virus? What happens when that one goes active?

On track.

I want to get better. I really do. But I don't know how. I know I need to leave this town. I need to start again. I don't need to endure two more years I don't think I can.

A Theme Deviation

"Near To You" -A Fine Frenzy

He and I had something beautiful
But so dysfunctional, it couldn't last
I loved him so but I let him go
'Cause I knew he'd never love me back

Such pain as this
Shouldn't have to be experienced
I'm still reeling from the loss,
Still a little bit delirious

Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.

You and I have something different
And I'm enjoying it cautiously
I'm battle scarred, I am working oh so hard
To get back to who I used to be

He's disappearing
Fading suddelly
I'm so close to being yours
Won't you stay with me
Please

Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.

I only know that I am
Better where you are
I only know that I am
Better where you are
I only know that I belong
Where you are

Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
Though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on

Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.

Yet, I'm better near to you.