Flying

Imagine there’s no heaven

It’s easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky…

These were the thoughts that had been swirling inside John’s head for the last couple of days as he wandered aimlessly around the city. These are the same thoughts he is thinking at this very moment while leaning over the balustrade of a bridge overlooking the fast lane below. How come that life becomes so hard it is easier to die?

There used to be a time that he could feel. Feel connected to the world, to everything. He could feel the trees breathing, hear the sound of flowers as they open up to the sun, hear the grass growing underneath his bare feet; all of those are nothing but a vague memory now. Lately, he feels like swimming in thick syrup, every movement he makes is labored, but worst of all is seeing this world from behind a thin gauze curtain; nothing is in focus, no color, everything is gray.

He was born catholic and only 21, how come he feels like he already has lived for centuries? That this world has nothing to offer him? For the last two and a half years, he tried so hard to shake the feeling of being there done that twice over and back without success. Now, he wants out. Would they miss him, his family? Probably not. He became invisible to them since he was twelve. He being gone would be nothing but a formality. He climbs over the top of the balustrade, looks up the sky and says:

“I don’t want a place in heaven or hell. Give it to someone who is more deserving. I suffered enough in this lifetime; I don’t want more of that where I’m going. When I’m gone, I just want to simply vanish. No afterlife, no reincarnation, no trace.”

Then, he jumps off.

   

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