Dating : The Man on the Brink of Suicide

There they were.

On one side of the road, there lies the dog soaking in the sun. Yet another uneventful day, relishing in the sun striking down on the ground.
The grass has never felt this cozy, the sun striking him while the wind blows through his fur. He rolls on his back and looks as triumphant as ever, awaiting a belly rub.

But sitting on that nearby bench is a rugged-looking guy, a cigarette intact between his fingers, staring blankly into the silence that engulfs him.
He looks drained from inanition caused by a disturbed mind. He sulks deeper into the bench despite the striking allure he emanates, yet his heart is numb by the illusion they call life.

He never could quite grasp the meaning of such a trivial matter that life can cease in a second. He never could quite perceive the thrill others recognize in transparent daily routines.

What truly captivated him was the surge coursing through his body at the sound of music playing in the distance, the idea of base jumping off a cliff, or free-falling off a building.
The notion of letting go is what enraptures him, instills him right in the middle of an adrenaline-infused state of euphoria. The hankering over the need to feel something more substantial than the mere second in the day, he smiles when he sees his friend.

The cigarette keeps burning. The man keeps on smoking. This charade he holds up for the world does not seem to dissipate.
He desperately wants to hold her hand and shout it out. Tell her how petrified he is inside at the actuality of emptiness layered inside of him. He wants to grab his friend by his shoulders and spill out all the perilous thoughts wandering his brain.

Yet it is agonizing; the sheer consideration of sharing this piece of himself with people shakes him to the core. The vacuum inside of him fills with dread since now; his heart is conflicted.

What about his family? How helpless they would feel. What about friends? How ignorance will be haunting them forever.
But he reflects again.
And speculates.

Wouldn’t it be a relief to all of them?
They would finally understand what it is like to survive in agony.
Maybe someone would see the silver-lining and break free of the shackles binding them to their torment.
Perhaps the tears that they cried over him would make up for all the repressed tears adrift behind his eyes.

Maybe this is not surrendering. Perhaps this is the man’s last act of strength.
And as his cigarette unknowingly burns through his fingers, he closes his eyes and concedes.

As the cigarette falls onto his thigh, a final teardrop plummets to the ground, falling right onto the dog’s muzzle, who was now weeping on the lap of a colorless soul.