Part Phive

Ed was an average heighted dude and constantly dressed both for style and function – Under Armour and Oakley tended to be his go-to’s. With a shaved head topped upon his reasonably athletic build, he was constantly asked if he was ever in the military… it was probably because he called all males “sir” and all females “miss,” looked people in the eyes, and used his please and thankyou’s. He knew respect and manners went a long way with people. Alas… at least he was comfortable for his extended stay.

Being unwantedly motionless was such a strange feeling. It’s not that only his body was frozen, but he couldn’t vocalize anything. In his body but shoved deep down below where he was unable to communicate by any means, he was internally petrified. Petrified both metaphorically and literally. He was stuck within a pit of himself where he could only feel fear grow around him like an anaconda squeezing tighter on each exhale. It could have manifested into anything but just its presence created panic. His heart rate rose but without the ability to control his breath. He wasn’t able to do a damn thing about it. Which subsequently created more panic. It was a deadly cycle. His legs trembled and he felt his entire body shudder real quick. It was a similar sensation to a January’s wind shearing through your summertime bikini.

He continued to hear voices and commotion around him, but it wasn’t the sounds of the cafĂ© he was initially looking to eat in. In fact, the voices he was hearing were of no distinct tone, but more of an energy or a vibe. There was no placing if it was female or male, man or creature, or something from beyond. But the messages were clear…

You’re a fucking PUSSY. Scared little bitch.”

You’ll never be good enough, quit now. You’re wasting everyone’s time and energy.”

No one gives a fuck about you… just end it. Save yourself the suffering.”

It was a prison of these thoughts, but they were not his own. They had been heard before, but never conceived by his own mind and narration. An outside force that had found its’ way internally was to blame. Somehow, his mind had been manipulated, tangled, and locked down for a good ol’ fashioned mind rape.

“You’re poison. You’re a failure. Look at everyone around you… they all know it.”

This was the opposite of meditation. Instead of being able to focus, being able to correct his mind and put it on track, whatever had invaded was in control. Like being in the front seat of a busted roller coaster, he was held hostage and all he could do was feel the track crumble below him.

It continued to loop, the same messages over and over for what seemed like forever. They played through his mind like a song on repeat, but remixed. The words weren’t always exactly the same, but the message was clear: End it. Your life is futile, stop dragging others down with you. Eliminate yourself. It was harsh, painful, and unfortunately convincing.

Images started to flash on the screen of his eyelids, but yet he couldn’t be sure. Imagery of how to take his own life… a full bottle of pills, a noose around his neck and tied to a beam above his head, stepping into oncoming highway traffic, dropping off the tallest building he could find. The visions he saw were darker than when he was seeing nothing at all.

Being completely stuck where he was, with no ability to speak or be present, he was unable to escape what was ripping through his mind and changing his entire mentality. Maybe I should do it. I’m wasting everyone’s time. I’m so sorry…

Ed was an honorable man or so he always did his best to be as such. He was always trying to do the right thing even in those moments that would be considered a gray area. At this point, his mind had been warped into believing that taking his own life was the only response to the pain and suffering he had caused others. There was only one culture that he could think of that found suicide to be the honorable solution to shame: the Japanese samurai. They were certainly one of the most honorable people to ever grace the Earth.

Hari Kari was by no means the most elegant route to take his own life, but if he was to go out, it would be a conscious decision to feel every ounce of his lifeforce leave his body. The visions continued. Sitting with his knees bent and his feet tucked under himself, sitting tall within a dark room, both his hands cradled the hilt of a extremely sharp, but shorter sword. Perhaps it was a katana of sorts, but he wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter. All he knew was that the samurai carried a long and short sword. Doubtful that they carried it just for this reason. He took his last breath and with it apologized to the universe for everything… for not creating enough, for taking and not giving back enough, for lying and cheating and stealing, for not living up to his human potential.

Tears poured down his face as he looked down with the dagger turned inwards to the left of his belly button. Searing pain followed as he quickly shot the blade into his abdomen. It felt like a precise flamethrower melting through all the layers of his skin, each and every fiber of the muscles, and being blown directly into his organs. The ability to breathe left him and at this point he was committed. With the last drops of strength his mind and body had, he ripped his arms and the blade across his body. Muscles tried to contract and relax at the same time. He tried to breathe and scream but couldn’t. The dragging of the blade through his body was the longest few seconds of his life. Stomach, diaphragm, his “hara” or center was released. As he could intensely feel all the pain and see the blood pour from his intestines… he started to lean back like a tree being split in half. As he fell backwards onto the floor, he felt peace with himself and the world around him. His vision started to close in… but as he saw his last sights he could see a version of himself moving upwards towards the white light. Finally, peace at last…

MY BODY! I can feel it! He had snapped back to reality.

Still having no control over anything, he felt it moving… just like the roller coaster but with eyes open. He even had a little bit of his sight back. Nothing had changed, everyone was still right where they were before he slipped into this “coma.” The smell of bacon wafted back into his nose, the goats behind him were still being obnoxious and out of place, and his ass was still uncomfortable in the lopsided chair he had sat in. I’m so grateful to be back…

It was at this point, his hand drifted towards the knife on the table and firmly grasped it…

“Firmly grasp it.”

About krisoakey

Simply a man playfully chasing enlightenment while encouraging others to join him through mockery, logical anomalies, and hand holding...LOTS of hand holding
This entry was posted in fiction, Goats, Flies, Berkshires, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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