Fragments!

       At midnight, he drifted slowly along the highway, trying to make his final decision. A decision that would change his life forever. On the surface, he seemed normal, maybe geographically lost, considering location, but definitely okay. But on the inside, he was numb, barely capable of controlling the souls who resided within him. Barely alive to live. He was weak.

       As he drifted, his feet dragged on the dirt. Too heavy and weighed down by the burden of his life to lift and march on with confidence. He just wanted it to end. He wanted a bit of light in the dark abyss that was his life. He wanted to be free from the racing heart, the hopeless feeling. The feeling of a thousand men dancing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. There had to be more to life. There had to be an uphill at the end of this downward spiral. After all, nothing lasts forever, right?

       Except, it did. 

       He lived his entire life by that quote, hoping for a brighter day and actively working toward it. He wanted to keep wishing, working, and dreaming of a happy moment. A moment where his smile wasn’t forced because he knew he should be grateful. A moment where he didn’t have to dream up an escape to experience some sort of bliss. A moment that wasn’t forced. A moment that wasn’t shared. A moment where he was happy and content within himself.

       But with the souls he logged around in his vessel, he would never have that moment to himself. He believed that they were the reason he was never at peace. The conflict that raged between the souls was something that made him wary. One soul was ever so positive. She believed in sunshine and rainbows. Sweet flowers and wet grass. Harmony. She knew everything that was supposed to happen, had happened, and whatever is to happen, will. Nothing was wrong. The good, the bad and the heinous were all right and necessary. She often reminded him about the light at the end of the tunnel.

       However, there was someone who emphasised that the light may just be the savoury solitude of death. She often beckoned to him, reminding him that this feeling of worry, of worthlessness, of pain, could all quickly be taken away if he threw himself into oncoming traffic. If he ‘accidentally’ fell off the roof of his house. If he jumped headfirst into the shallow end of a pool. She reminded him that it could all be over in an instant if, at that very moment, he took three steps to the right, in just the perfect timing, then he would surely see the white light in the darkness. 

       As you could imagine, there was a tug of war where opinions were concerned.  This was when the strongest soul often put her foot down. The foot that usually sided with death. So what did that soul do? 

       He stared at the oncoming traffic. He saw himself diving in front of the traffic. He heard the sound the brakes would make as the driver desperately came to a halt. He saw the pile-up that would have occurred, claiming lives with it. But most importantly, he saw his bloody body on the road. 

       Life slowly slipping away as his breath became slow and sporadic. The blood that would have pooled around his body like a beauty on display at a museum. His contorted body may have fascinated or horrified passengers. Something that surely could never be human. He felt the pain that would ripple through his body. Pain like nothing he had ever felt before, as his bones punctured his organs, allowing the river of red to flow through his body, drowning him from the inside out. 

      But drowning wasn’t new for him now, was it? No, no, he was an expert at drowning and suffocation. That was his norm, and it would have been so beautiful, magnificent even, for that feeling to be his last.

       There was one last soul who resided in him. The realistic soul. The soul that understood why he felt the way he did. The soul that rationalised his intense need for death. The soul that understood that there was or could be a light at the end of the tunnel, but knew that the light looked nothing the others imagined. It wasn’t a grand experience. It wasn’t death. It wasn’t a radiant meadow with the richness of nature. That soul knew it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows with crystal rainfall and waterfalls. 

        That soul knew the happiness that the strongest sought out came in small fragments. Bits and pieces that often went unrecognised because it wasn’t blinding and spectacular. That soul knew that the experiences were hidden in the darkness, and it was up to the strongest to shine the light. Though the strongest was tired, drained even, he needed to do what was right for him, because as Ms Positivity had suggested, there was no right or wrong. There was no good or bad. All that is to happen will.

       The rational soul knew how to fix the things in the body he resided, but he was often drowned out by the others. However, he never judged the strongest. He knew that it was time for the strongest. It was too much to handle, and it had been too much to handle for nineteen years of his twenty-five-year existence. If the strongest decided to throw their vessel into oncoming traffic, he would respect the decision made.

       So as he lay on the ground, bleeding his life away, he stared at the stars that shone brighter than ever before. A happy tear rolled down his face. He had finally seen the light, and he was happy.