Rebirth | By: Edward Harris | | Category: Short Story - Depressing Bookmark and Share



††††††††††† I feel like Iím falling. The wind thrashes my face violently, as though I was moving very fast; and even so, it all seems to be going so slow. Incredibly slow. It seems to me I hear screams, voices, I donít know. It is like going through a tunnel that you cannot see, but perceive as a stream of panic and fear, not yours, but othersí.

The reflection of something bright, I see the reflection of something bright up in the distance. Is it the end of the tunnel? I donít think so. It is just something that is bright and shines. The wind makes my eyes cry. They are watery, but Iím not crying. And if I was crying, I wouldnít be crying because Iím sad, quite the contrary: I World cry because Iím happy; tought I never thought it could ever be possible. It does not make any sense at all: imagine, crying because you Ďre happy.

Iím coming closer and closer to the bright; or ist it the bright which is coming closer to me? Itís just the same, we are closer and closer. I turn my head to have an idea of where I am or to check whether I know the place, but I only see spots, I feel I am going somewhere very, very fast, thatís why my eyes are crying and I feel like needles picking up my face, and even so, the whole world seems to be spinning so slowly.

I feel it on my hands fingertips. I think now I get it. Itís water. The reflection I saw was the sun reflecting on the water in the pool, in a hot summerís day. I see my hands going into the water slowly and I feel the spasms of cold in my skin as my arms go underwater. It all is happening so slowly that I think I can feel every cell in my body shaking at the temperature change. Water.

A deafening noise, like an explosion, it isolates me from the rest of the world. I canít hear a thing. Now the bright thing is again in front of me, or is it below me? Or maybe over me?, itís hard to know. I see hundreds; no, thousands, maybe millions of tiny little see through spherical things, coming up from behind my back and going away from me. I know: itís the water, itís the air bubbles. They grow farther from me so slowly that I might be able to count them. They leave free. As though each and every one of the bubbles were a universe, an idea, a responsibility, a lie, a truth, places in another space and time, a desicion that leaves and frees me. And I feel so light now, so released, relieved...and I feel like crying, and I donít hold the tears back.

I cry because I feel free: no family, no job, no friends, no responsibilities, nothing to tie me to anything. And I see the universes go towards the shine, I see both, truths and lies sneaking through my fingertips, the decisions exploding by the glare...yes, I feel free and I cry because Iím happy. Free, ideep into the unknown. It would be perfect if it were the sea.

The void is broken by explosions near me. I see silhouettes. I feel strong hands getting hold of my arms and neck. I canít move so that I can break free. It all happens so slowly, and yet I long for speed urges me to get away from those hands. Canít you see I donít want to leave? Leave me alone! Now Iím crying in despair. I sem. to react. The pills and the whiskey did not do a good job, Iím afraid. I feel myself pulled out, driven towards the shine. Please...donít...Iím so close. No. Go away! Damn it! Leave me alone you son of a bitch! What the fuck do you know? GO AND LEAVE ME FUCKING ALONE! FUCK YOU ALL! GO THE FUCK AWAY!

I canít talk. My body does not answer. I only see universes comino back to me, I see the shine closer, I hear the ones pulling me out murmuring. My hands are out of the water, I already feel the cold of the breeze in my skin; and even so, I try to resist so that Iím not taken out of the water; but I canít, my body will simply not respond, no matter how hard I try, I canít say a word or muve a muscle.

My face is reaching the surface in no time, and my cry is now desperation. My whole life has been doing what it is supposed to be done, tied to honor my word and the feeling of helpnessless to see others live in a way thy donít deserve...; but, who am I to judge? Itís me, and I judge regarding my values, what I have learned...and what I learned is that I donít want to live, that I hate life from the guts, I learned that I want to be left alone once and for all...and I scream inside when I feel the breeze on my face. No, no,no. Son of a...they make me be born again, and I donít want it. I just want to leave, I want to leave this life I never wanted. Why am I being given an opportunity I never asked for in the first place? This is the only selfish thing that Iíve ever done for myself: by myself and for mysel, and you, mother fuckers, youíre taking it all away Damn you all...

My body is cold. They slap me on the face to get me react. It feels like someoneís fondling me. Momís fondles. Itís the only thing I would ever miss from this world. Voices call me, they cry me from far away; and I just want them to leave alone. Let me die. Let me go.

The beeping of the pulse machine, the needles stuck in my arms, and the mask to help me breathe, they all tell me I was saved. I was reborn. I was damned. I cry in silence, as I am tired of this all. I donít want to go on, but I guess my curse is that: to live a life I donít want. To fight fights Iíd rather lose. To breathe air that slowly kills me. To be a number, to be man, a husband, a parent, a friend, an enemy, a ...whatever. I have no goals, except to meet death when he picks me up, and finally frees me from this all.

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