I know what you’re thinkin’, “Bob, what the hell is goin’ on here now?”
Well, folks, I ain’t so sure myself of what’s happenin’. Apparently, though, I am goin’ Dr. Who every time I ax myself…or so it seems. So what happens from here on out? I am not quite sure. Truth be told, I am scared shitless and I sure as hell don’t wanna ‘become one with the darkness.’ I am pretty sure that ain’t signing up with the band or being Tim Curry’s protégé in Legend either.
I guess…I guess this is going to be it…
Bob awoke in his bed. Alone. He heard no one in the house. It was quiet, abnormally quiet from how it’d typically be bustling with the kids running amok, and his wife shouting after them. His lips curled into a smile at the thought.
He laid in bed wondering, wondering what in the hell was going on. Who was this Bob? What kind of life did he lead? Was he a good father? A loving husband? A schmuck? A has been? He sighed as he got out of bed and wandered over to the mirror above the dresser. He looked his body over. Pockmarks of bullet wounds, stab wounds, rope burns, burns, marks from every suicide he had made were manifesting at an alarming rate. He stared at his reflection, hard. He could barely recognize himself. He had wondered if other people would see him the same way or not.
He did a morning ritual in which he had not completed in some time since his newfound ‘power’—shower. He shaved, brushed his teeth, clipped his nails. It was all something he had almost forgotten about. He stared at himself in the mirror. The reflection seemed to cry out in agony, pain…deceit. A man that was trapped within. This spurned the sadness within, invoking those ever-burning feelings that had first started the motion of his self-perpetual motion killing machine. He stared down at the razor for a few minutes. He debated with himself…with himself.
Don’t you ever get tired of it all?
Well, yeah, I am tired. So very tired.
Why do you keep running? If what he said is true, then it’s pointless in trying to do anything.
There’s always hope.
Was hope there when you first jumped? When you first started the chain of events that led you where you are now?
That was my choice.
And yet, you continue to evade the real thought, the real answer to your question. You know it’s pointless, you know it’s all going to come crashing down on you. You know you’re going to lose, and you hate losing. That’s all you’ve known. You’re just one big walking contradiction; talking about choices and hope. You’re pathetic.
If I could take it all back and try again, I would. I would make an effort. I would better myself. I want to fight.