My heart was racing. I wanted to give in…
The craziest part is always this one. The moment when you are ready to throw everything in the air and say “Fuck it!”. You don’t care if you lose. You don’t care about the games. You don’t care about a damn thing.
My whole body was reeling from the electric charge it had endured. The pain started to kick in. But the sweet memory of momentary pleasure wouldn’t abandon my brain.
(Baby, won’t you kill me already?)
The madness ensued like the wolf watching Red Riding Hood, planning the killing. I was suffering, however, these emotions only reminded me of the good seconds I had lived. I had been free for five seconds and in my head, I was rejoicing.
I was lying in my bed, wishing for things to have happened some other way. My thoughts were crushing me, relentlessly.
(Just load a gun and shoot me, now.)
Regardless of how I was feeling and of how the symptoms were manifesting physically, I was okay. I had survived. Just when I thought I couldn’t bear it…
I was the random variable. And I didn’t care. I liked it, I relished upon that fact. I didn’t want to change a thing.
A spark of happiness shone in my present. And I smiled. I had felt something I hadn’t experienced in a while… And for an instant, I didn’t want to die.