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Welcome to my life
Mabye I don't wanna go
Created on 2005-08-03 10:30:56 (#7916868), last updated 2008-08-25
83 comments received, 29 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
123 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 1 Userpic
Basic Info| Name: | dead_end_story7 |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 02-24 |
| Location: | Dudley, Massachusetts, United States |
Bio-------
K drove in silence for a moment. Then he said, “Thank God - I thank the Almighty - that I stopped the old elbow-lifting exercises because those other boys…binge (crazy)? Ja, that’s how they still operate. They work like dogs for three weeks and then they soup it up for a solid week. That’s how we got through the war. That’s how we learned to get through real life.”
K paused and then he said, “I can’t blame them. You know, if I didn’t believe in the Heavenly Father, I think I might have scribbled myself by now, either by accident or on purpose. Because what’s the point in life? Do you know what the point of life is?”
“No,” I said, “I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“I’ll tell you,” said K. “Unless you have been saved by Jesus, life is just the few seconds you have before death. That’s it. Over and out…Without Jesus as your savior, that’s all life is…And doing everything you can to forget that you’re going to snuff it shortly is your single mission in life.” K turned to me in the darkness, “Do you know how I know this?”
“No,” I said.
K was speaking with a preaching voice, a voice that was supposed to reach into the dark, cool corners of a church. “We were all lost after the war,” he told me. “I reckon those of us who stopped dopping and sucking cabbage, we started to feel…shit! I mean, we actually started to think about what had happened to us because - you know - we had sobered up. How come we aren’t dead? Where are we? Why are we here? What are we doing? We went from this incredible structure, this incredible force and sense of purpose…You were either in or out. Alive or dead. And then it was over and…All of a sardine, we had to figure it out by ourselves and what we found is that nothing seemed to matter about the outside world. It was all pointless. How much can it matter what kind of car you drive? How can it matter what you eat, I mean as long as you have enough to eat? How much can it matter what you wear? When you get down to it, what can it matter more than being alive? But then what? You’re alive and then…what?
All around us the rinsed air and sky and world seemed endlessly black, as if you could plunge into it in any direction and fall forever. A nightjar exploded up from in front of the headlights and seemed to hang there for an age before sipping into the night. By now, we had turned off the mud-rutted road that leads from Sole to Chongwe and onto the high gravel spine of driveway that leads through the mopane pan to Mum and Dad’s camp. Only a few days ago an army of bullfrogs had frolicked and seethed here. Now the shallow lake rippled out on either side of the track, vast and anonymous and almost silent.
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?” K asked suddenly. “Do you see yourself?”
“Yes.”
“But yourself isn’t a thing. How can you see something that isn’t there? You are just meat and bones. That’s what you should see. Flesh and blood, that’s all. And all flesh and blood is…Do you want to know what flesh and blood is?” K waited. “You and me and every other person on this earth-we’re all just a bloody corpse waiting to happen. I don’t care how good-looking you think you are. How successful you believe you are. Your body is still just a corpse-in-waiting.”
-------
K drove in silence for a moment. Then he said, “Thank God - I thank the Almighty - that I stopped the old elbow-lifting exercises because those other boys…binge (crazy)? Ja, that’s how they still operate. They work like dogs for three weeks and then they soup it up for a solid week. That’s how we got through the war. That’s how we learned to get through real life.”
K paused and then he said, “I can’t blame them. You know, if I didn’t believe in the Heavenly Father, I think I might have scribbled myself by now, either by accident or on purpose. Because what’s the point in life? Do you know what the point of life is?”
“No,” I said, “I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“I’ll tell you,” said K. “Unless you have been saved by Jesus, life is just the few seconds you have before death. That’s it. Over and out…Without Jesus as your savior, that’s all life is…And doing everything you can to forget that you’re going to snuff it shortly is your single mission in life.” K turned to me in the darkness, “Do you know how I know this?”
“No,” I said.
K was speaking with a preaching voice, a voice that was supposed to reach into the dark, cool corners of a church. “We were all lost after the war,” he told me. “I reckon those of us who stopped dopping and sucking cabbage, we started to feel…shit! I mean, we actually started to think about what had happened to us because - you know - we had sobered up. How come we aren’t dead? Where are we? Why are we here? What are we doing? We went from this incredible structure, this incredible force and sense of purpose…You were either in or out. Alive or dead. And then it was over and…All of a sardine, we had to figure it out by ourselves and what we found is that nothing seemed to matter about the outside world. It was all pointless. How much can it matter what kind of car you drive? How can it matter what you eat, I mean as long as you have enough to eat? How much can it matter what you wear? When you get down to it, what can it matter more than being alive? But then what? You’re alive and then…what?
All around us the rinsed air and sky and world seemed endlessly black, as if you could plunge into it in any direction and fall forever. A nightjar exploded up from in front of the headlights and seemed to hang there for an age before sipping into the night. By now, we had turned off the mud-rutted road that leads from Sole to Chongwe and onto the high gravel spine of driveway that leads through the mopane pan to Mum and Dad’s camp. Only a few days ago an army of bullfrogs had frolicked and seethed here. Now the shallow lake rippled out on either side of the track, vast and anonymous and almost silent.
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?” K asked suddenly. “Do you see yourself?”
“Yes.”
“But yourself isn’t a thing. How can you see something that isn’t there? You are just meat and bones. That’s what you should see. Flesh and blood, that’s all. And all flesh and blood is…Do you want to know what flesh and blood is?” K waited. “You and me and every other person on this earth-we’re all just a bloody corpse waiting to happen. I don’t care how good-looking you think you are. How successful you believe you are. Your body is still just a corpse-in-waiting.”
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