It is 2 a.m. These printed words are the final testaments of my life. I walk down the street, and my feet have made up their mind. One block away is the catalyst of my masterpiece. The sidewalk will be my canvas.
For the past two years I have searched for the answer. The cure. The piece I never had. My parents, Mark and Anne, never inquired. They never saw past the grade card, past the sleeves of my jacket. There is no answer. Some of us are just meant to die, and history will not remember us.
But perhaps my masterpiece will be remembered, at least by some.
My feet carry me upstairs. I have no regrets. My condition is not my fault, it is yours. All of you reading, who did nothing more than that. You lived your lives as the audience of a tragic tale. Gazing from afar, helplessly watching events unfold, never being able to change those final pages.
I had no friends, no love, no desire. I am guilt free, I lived as I should. But it is certain, the only impact I will ever make is the impact upon the ground below.
I’m on the roof. It is 2:10, and I stand at the edge. Tell me, who will catch me? Who will stop me from throwing myself from the ledge? No one. I am in control at last. I hope you all burn in hell, burn for reading the last words of a man whose life might still exist! All because of you!
Good night and farewell scum!
And Richard leapt, a free soul, flying gracefully to the remorseless ground, completely overlooking the lack of cellular reception atop the dark apartment complex, his final testimony smashing to bits across the sidewalk, completely obliterated, with no trace of record. Richard is the perfect example of our less evolved brethren, exhibiting blunt stupidity, carelessness, self-pity, and general egotistical behavior. His own self-extermination was almost understandable.
A Time Traveler’s Report on Heathens of the 21st Century
by Joe Halligan
CA III- Period 5
29 September 2214