Suicide no. 23: The Endless Coil
–by Derek Alan Wilkinson
You could call it “emptiness,” but I’m full to the brim of something else. It’s the “Black,” or, as I’d once called it, the “Fading and Reckoning.” I am what has become of a lifetime of need, regret, hopelessness and despair, and a thesaurus full of other adjectives describing Neitzsche’s “Void.”
And a hatred for everything and everyone around me.
If you’re society, commonplace, then I’ve become your attrition—a statistical variant in that decadent, ongoing recycling bin that we recklessly label “humanity.” Then again, this is evolution—natural selection—and I will not be bested by the rest of you apes. What does that mean for me, though? “Bested?” Like I’m winning the Great Existence Contest?
If you’d cut into me, I’m almost convinced that, instead of blood, a black, tar-like substance would seep until it came gushing out—until it enveloped the world: an oceanic, oil-slick of a catastrophe—a maelstrom of bitter memories and lost loves, failed religions and false dichotomies that have both won and lost my persuasion at different points in my long and seemingly endless life. I’m as empty as a hole in a travelling aircraft window—feeling as if I’d suck the passengers’ innards out through a tiny, little hole.
Like the end of that Alien movie.
I’m also as full, and as empty, as the sun.
There is a “Void,” a blank slate. That place of being is that into which one stares into something endless and timeless, and from which that thing: whatever is on the other end—will stare back into you. And it is there we find ourselves—both at the crux and at the end of—that both fateful and fate-absent mortal coil; that beginning, and tried end, for us all:
That double-helix of a molecular strand we so thoughtlessly call our “DNA.”
So, here I begin and end my struggle—my torment. An unfortunate slave to timeless masters, I will not purge my life from me—not just yet:
I have offspring to beget, first.
Inspired by The Daily Post’s Weekly Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/03/inspiration-images-1000-words/