What's the point of life when nothing is important?
I watched you all go through your own scenarios, and was seen as the only one without this sickness. You all got through it using some sort of medication; drink, drugs, music. Me, I have nothing. I know not to drink, or do drugs. Music doesn't even scratch the surface of help.
So throughout this whole ordeal, no one even looked at me to see if I needed help- just a talk would have helped a little. I got a dog, because Frank seemed to be getting better with his army of them; he didn't help. My girlfriend got pregnant, and apparently, I'm overjoyed. Not really, it's just gonna be another soul in this recycling plant world. I even married her, because you all seemed so happy with your various partners. That didn't help either.
You were prbably the only one who started to notice me. The me that understands that life is pointless, but I really understand it, not like Gerard says he does. If he really does get what it is, he wouldn't bother with it. If you actually talked to me about this, you would think I was like the rest of you. You wouldn't say it to my face, but you'd talk to me and try to get it all out, like you all did. That won't work. Nothing will. Because there's nothing wrong with me, I just understand things you don't. Maybe you have small ideas as to what I know; but nothing close.
We are just things. Things with no names, no purposes, no real meaning. But we give ourselves names, purposes, meanings. They still mean nothing. Everything is pointless when you understand that we are nothing. And when you know that we're nothing, nothing else matters. Because you are your own world, and when the thing most important to you doesn't mean anything, nothing does.
I tried wasting what I knew. to see if it would disappear if I 'forgot' about it. That failed, because it just multiplied. A tumor developing inside me, a rare disease no one knows anything about, untreatable.
Yes, maybe I should have tried your medication before. It's so much better than knowing. You know what I did? I wanted to try something, something that only certain people can do. My understanding let me do it. Yes, people will say I was mad, insane- but what is insane? Sanity and insanity are the same thing to me. There's no point trying to classify something that we have nothing to do with. People say everyone's different, that is not true. Everyone is the same. Stupidly pointless things in a stupidly pointless place, leading a stupidly pointless life.
So you know what I did? I killed them. Gerard, Frank, and now you Mikey. You found out about my 'inner turmoil', and it has killed you. Isn't it surprising how I've survived this lomng with this disease. It's inside you now too, so you should get a slight understanding of what everything is.
My friends, I helped you, and you helped me. How, you may ask. Well, you let me tell you. Maybe talking is the best medicine. I doubt it though, I still hurt. Remember, nothing matters.
Mikey puts the letter down. He lifts his heavy weight of his head to look around the room. The room that was once colourful, and filled with fruitful memories from him and his friends. It looks different now, he thinks. Rays letter really has contaminated him. The room is grey. Nothing important is in it.
He stands and walks through the door to where he finds his friend Frank. He is sat against a tree, staring into space. Frank gets it, Mikey thinks.
Then he walks a little further into the small grove of trees and finds his brother Gerard lying on the floor, glassy eyed. Not with tears for their friend, but for everything else. Gerard gets it too.
These three guys, who'd once had an amazing outlook on life, had been poisoned. The other man who had been with them for years, had changed them. Really changed them. They no longer had a colourful outlook on life. They would never again create music that changed people lives for the better, but change them for the worse. And they would suceed, for they had a talent for subconciously planting things in peoples heads, and they would live with this disease for a long time to come. Because they didn't fully get it, not like Ray had. Therefore, they could live with it.A tap on his shoulder shakes Mikey out of his thoughts.
"Sorry, Mr Way. I understand what you and your friends are going through,but we need to ask you a few questions regarding Mr Toro's reasons for what happened." The cop looks up into the ruined mans eyes and doesn't see the feeling swirling in the hazel depths. Mikey nods, and walks with the ignorant man. On the way to the car, Mikey takes one lonely look at the tree his friend had been hanging from, to the bag in which he currently resides, and nods to him. He understands what Ray had been going through. Maybe not all of it, but just a little is a lot compared to others.
Then he sits in the car, not bothering to think about what he should say to the man; just what he should do next. Everything seems pointless.
Okay, this is my first story on here and I really REALLY like the sad one-shots, so I thought I'd do one that means something to me. This means A LOT to me, but it doesn't matter if you don't understand it. It's mainly just my feelings on life (If that wasn't obvious).