The Torture of Immortality
by: mg
The doctors tell me, "An inch lower and you'd be dead." I laugh.
What a cynic. An inch higher and after a few weeks in the hospital I'd be laughing my face off under an island sun, not knowing what I was missing.
But if it were an inch lower, I'd see the light at the end of the tunnel burn out, a near-death experience for an immortal, like the teaser trailer at the movies.
If it were an inch lower, I'd run down that stupid tunnel until I realize that the light at the end of the tunnel is just a stupid lamp at the end of a pointless tunnel, designed to trick us into thinking it has an end. And well, the tunnel has an end, just no opening. And so, at least for people like me, we have no choice but to turn around and go back the way we came, back into existence, into living, into what has become torture.
All I want is one conversation with God or whoever to ask him. "Why me?" I've made no use of my immortality, I've done nothing to take advantage of my condition. I'm no savior, I'm no vampire, and I'm definitely not the second coming of Christ. Or first coming, if you're a Jew. To think of all the foriegn languages I could've learned in my lifespan, all the forms of martial arts I could've mastered, all the discoveries I could've made. But I didn't. Instead I sat around wondering how I could end this endless life of mine. I could've done so many good things. But didn't. I could've watched the fluctuations of the stock market, learning patterns. I could've seen all those stupid comets that only come around every lifetime or so, I could've seen those stupid things until they finally burn up in whatever planet's atmosphere.
An inch lower and I'd be dead. Please, save me the false hope. Can't you just pretend to slip and accidentally stick that scalpel into my forever throbbing heart?
I want to see the blood squirting all over your surgeon's mask, and you can't help but panic and try to save my life. I want the blood drained from me so that I'm pale as a glacier in Antarctica and maybe, if I lie very very still, some people will at least think I'm dead. And that's the closest I'll ever come.
Please, doctor. Diagnose me with a terminal illness. Euthanize me, baby. Free me.
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©2001 mg
