Mr. Rodriguez

There is no hope here, not in this wasteland of irritating consciousness, why should there be any hope left in me, for me, involving me! He raged clutching a thinning blue T-shirt someone else’s he is sure. Worthless waste of flesh, of resources, of breath. You are sucking all the oxygen up! You’ll leave none for a person of value you retched thing! The voices shouted louder now as his eyes began to bulge toward the artificial sun nothing left? He asked the only voice still a whimper. Pathetic! Only a fool would not recognize how unwarranted your existence is! He laid perfectly still starring up at the light the sterile room becoming stiff as all the air began to disappear with each inhale not real, not real, this-worthless, worthless, hopeless flesh-not real, not real, his breathing quickened and the room became smaller over and over he repeated while the angry voices shouted louder and louder.

The sound of slamming doors startled him eyes still bulging he was sitting up starring out at the world where frantic people pushed and pulled others from the closing doors grasp, but before he knew what was going on his own door shut. Must be time, must be time for it all to end, no hope is left, there is nothing here… he took a slow breath watching the thinning blue shirt rise. There was a smirk growing on his face as the shirt pulled away from his chest a newly born balloon, vivid, and wonderful. He watched as the balloon pushed through the sterile ceiling and artificial sun freedom.

Eyes still bulging he moved stiffly to the closet which crumbled to dust as he opened it. A single metal rod came into sight one that had been worn down for just this occasion. With ease he pulled the rod down one end dressed in a rubber mold the other jagged and singing. It’ll be okay. Its time. He felt a thousand eyes upon him the angry voices cooing now this is what is best, you are only killing people worthy of life. The suffering you bring will end there was no whimper only a calm nod he took the rod to his bed do it, do it now, do it, do it now, do it, do it now. Lifting his wrist he examined the skin a hardened brown that left a bitter taste in his mouth there is no hope, with bulging eyes he took the jagged side of the rod and placed it upon his detested skin the warmth that came welcome as his body began to sing he pulled down the length of his arm feeling for the first time ecstasy. More! The crowd demanded and as someone who loved to please he tried to grip the rod in the other hand but already it was weak. After attempting several times the bulging eyes began to water finish it! DO IT NOW! He dropped the rod the sound of it hitting the tile floor almost deafening in a rage he picked up the rod and with all of his strength-

“Mr. Rodri-“ with all of his strength he attempted to impale his chest missing and hitting his throat blood like bubbles scattered in the air his bulging eyes watching in euphoria as the crowd cheered freedom.

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