## Part I: The Question
If you were given a wish, what would you wish for?
Fame? Power? Status? Riches?
Oh, OH! I've got something delicious for you, my dear audience! Something that'll make you squirm in your seat while pretending you're not enjoying it! It starts with the letter "P"-uh huh! I know what YOU're thinking, ye filthy little devil!
That's right! Your perverted little brain jumped straight to Pleasure, didn't it? DIDN'T IT?!
Well, well, well-look at you! That's one of the options, obviously. But I'm not the per-VERT here-oh no, no, no-I'm just a humble intro-VERT narrator, innocently telling you a story while you sit there with your dirty thoughts! And you're probably thinking I'm grinning right now while saying this, but have you NOTICED? You're grinning too!
AYE, YE LITTLE DEVIL!
CAUGHT YOU! With your hand in the metaphorical cookie jar! With your mind in the gutter! Don't you DARE look away now-we're in this together, you and I!
Ha! I can agree with you on that-most people seek pleasure. Of COURSE they do! You and I both seek pleasures in life, right? The little dopamine hits. The momentary distractions from the crushing weight of existence. But deep down inside that dark little corner of your soul that you don't talk about at family dinners, you kinda admit it... you're a little pervy, yes? A little twisted? A little bit wrong?
HAHAHA! Little devil! It's okay-your secret's safe with me. And every other people reading this. But who's counting?
Anyway, let's CONTINUE, shall we?
My little perverted, voyeuristic, rubbernecking friends-let me tell you a STORY. Yes, it's a freaking STORY! Not a poem, not a love letter, not a fucking TED Talk about finding your inner light and manifesting abundance! So just because I mention the words "love letter," you think it's about romance? About two people finding each other under the stars? About happily ever after?
Well, OF COURSE IT IS!
It's a story about how people LOVE in the most ironic, fucked-up, soul-destroying way imaginable! It's about how love can be a knife disguised as a hug! How concern can be cruelty wearing a caring face! And I do not know whether you'll LOVE it or not, and FRANKLY, I do not give a single DAMN!
What else would it be?
This is a story about an average guy who wished for-drumroll please-P.E.A.C.E!
What? Did you think he'd wish for LOVE instead?
Well, he DID, because he "Loves Peace"!
Peace! What a BEAUTIFUL word, right? So soft. So gentle. So full of promise and possibility. Say it with me: Peeeeeace. Doesn't it just roll off the tongue like honey? Like a lullaby? Like a lie?
Now connect it to the word below:
IN
D.E.A.T.H.
THAT, my friend, is what our guy wished for!
PEACE. IN. DEATH.
There! I spelled it out for your dumb ass! No ambiguity! No metaphor! Actual, literal, "I want to stop existing" peace!
I KNOW, RIGHT?!
Like, seriously, WHO in their RIGHT MIND wishes for peace in death? Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?! I can't even COMPREHEND how I'm going to tell YOU-my lovely, beautiful, slightly disturbed audience-about this story! This average guy is WISHING for it! Actively! Consciously! With full intent and purpose!
Nope! Nah-uh! Not in a poetic sense! Not in a "dark night of the soul" metaphorical sense! In a "researching drop distances and impact velocities" sense!
After ALL the trials and tribulations he persevered through in life-trying to achieve his goals, be successful in his career, live a fulfilling life filled with love and meaning-slowly but SURELY, like water eroding stone, like poison seeping into veins, he grew TIRED.
So. Fucking. TIRED.
Tired of people looking down on him. Mocking him. Humiliating him. Using him as a cautionary tale. Every malice you can put into words-every subtle dig, every backhanded compliment, every knowing smirk-he experienced it. He LIVED it. He BREATHED it until it became his oxygen.
And so, he made one final wish.
But before we get to that DELICIOUS, TRAGIC, INEVITABLE ending-oh, and trust me, it's chef's kiss perfect-let's begin at the beginning, shall we?
And if you came here looking for hope, for redemption, for an uplifting message about resilience-WRONG FUCKING DOOR, BUDDY! This is the other kind of story! The kind that doesn't have a happy ending! The kind that keeps you up at night! The kind that makes you text your friends "you okay?" at 2 AM!
Still here?
Of COURSE you are!
We're ALL just rubbernecking at car crashes, pretending we care about the victims while secretly, GUILTILY grateful it's not us bleeding out on the asphalt!
So BUCKLE UP, buttercup! It gets SO. MUCH. WORSE.
## Part II: The Wedding
It all started at a wedding celebration in a hotel.
Another one. Another celebration of love. Another promise that'll be broken in five years. Another open bar that's the only reason half these people showed up.
People talking, gossiping, performing their elaborate mating rituals and social hierarchies like trained monkeys in designer suits! Just another wedding celebration-HURRAY! Love conquers all! Till death do us part! (Spoiler alert: it won't, and divorce lawyers are EXPENSIVE!)
And don't bother me with the setting! World-building my ASS! Just use your imagination, for God's sake! Picture the chandeliers dripping with crystal tears. The white tablecloths starched so stiff they could double as body bags. The forced smiles. The fake laughter. The underlying current of judgment and comparison that runs through every family gathering like raw sewage through pipes!
If you've come this far in the story-and why wouldn't you, you little masochist-CONGRATULATIONS, my lovely audience! Let me introduce you to our protagonist, our sacrificial lamb, our guy: AYRONEE!
Round of applause, please!
Crickets.
Tumbleweeds.
The sound of nobody giving a single solitary SHIT.
PERFECT! Just like his life!
Ayronee is twenty-seven years old. Never been truly loved by anyone except his two friends. Never been successful at anything that matters to society. Never been anything but a disappointment wrapped in a cheap suit that doesn't fit anymore because he's lost weight from stress and gained weight from drinking and generally just EXISTS in that special purgatory reserved for people who tried and failed.
So our boy Ayronee is doing the usual things you'd do at a wedding celebration-existing in that particular circle of hell known as "mandatory family gatherings"-eating his mediocre rubber chicken, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, mentally calculating the height of the building and the terminal velocity of a human body-you know, NORMAL wedding thoughts!-when SUDDENLY, he's approached by two of his cousins.
Oh, these FUCKING guys.
God damn sons of bitches! Parasites in Armani! Tumors with trust funds!
Yeah, I'm not pulling ANY punches here, my dear audience! Why would I? They certainly won't! They NEVER do!
Cousin Guy Jerkface #1: "So! How are you, dear cousin?" (His voice drips with the kind of sarcasm that should be classified as a chemical weapon under the Geneva Convention) "I heard you passed the exam for officer in the military? WOW! How did the final interview go?!" (He already knows the answer. They ALWAYS know. That's the FUN part for them-watching you squirm like an insect under a magnifying glass on a sunny day!)
AYRONEE: "Well, I'm doing okay, thanks for asking." (Lying through his teeth) "And yes, I did pass the exam, but unfortunately I failed at the final interview." (But in Ayronee's mind: This is EXACTLY why I hate attending events when my relatives are involved! For the love of God, for the love of ANY god-real or imagined-let my grieving soul RETIRE! Let me dissolve into the fucking carpet! Let me cease! Just let me CEASE EXISTING!)
Cousin Guy Shithead #2: "AWWWW! How absolutely, positively, DEVASTATINGLY tragic for you! Better luck next time-IF there IS a next time, though! HAHAHAHA!" (Mockingly laughs like a hyena that's discovered a fresh corpse and invited all his hyena friends over for a feast) "I mean, seriously, how many chances does ONE guy need? At what point do you just accept that maybe, just MAYBE, this isn't for you? That NOTHING is for you? Ever think about that? Like, REALLY think about it?"
Ayronee: "Yeah, right. I'll do better next time for sure." (Smiles with his mouth while his eyes scream MURDER and his soul weeps) (In his mind: Yeah, RIGHT-says the guy who bribed his way into service! Says the guy whose daddy made a phone call! Says the guy whose family connections opened every door! Says the guy who's never earned a single FUCKING thing in his privileged, silver-spoon, trust-fund, "I got a job at my uncle's company" life! I hope your car flips on the way home! I hope your wife's fucking your best friend! I hope your kids grow up to hate you! I hope you lie awake at night with that existential dread you've been avoiding! I hope-)
Cousin Guy Jerkface #1: "Yeah, well, maybe next time-IF there IS a next time, and that's a BIG if-maybe do your best to pass a simple job interview in the officer course of the army, alright? I mean, it's not ROCKET SCIENCE. My nephew passed it, and he's borderline ILLITERATE. Like, he can barely spell his own NAME." (Laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever said) "We'd better get going 'cause, you see, WE'RE focusing on our careers instead of, you know..." (Gestures at Ayronee like he's a pile of garbage someone forgot to take out) "...THIS. Whatever THIS is. This... situation. This lifestyle choice of failure."
Cousin Guy Shithead #2: "It's OKAY, Ayronee. Really. You'll be successful in your career someday. Maybe. Possibly. In an alternate universe where you have talent and work ethic. You see, I'm the SAME as you-a perfectly average guy!" (Winks with the kind of insincerity that should be punishable by law) "Anyway, I hope you KNOW that I'm ALWAYS rooting for you, my dearest cousin! Even though it's like rooting for a three-legged horse in the Kentucky Derby, you know? But hey, miracles happen! Sometimes! Well, I'd better be going now. Important people to see. Successful people. You understand. See ya!" (Pats Ayronee on the shoulder in a way that feels like both a dismissal and a threat)
Ayronee: "Yeah, SURE. Thanks for the incredibly friendly advice, dear cousins. Please enjoy your night and have FUN." (His smile is a wound that won't stop bleeding) (In his mind: Self-absorbed parasites. Human-shaped tumors. Emotional vampires. This is why I HATE attending events where my family is involved! I really, REALLY hate it when I'm forced to do things I don't like! Why did my parents ask me to attend this circus?! Oh, RIGHT-they didn't ASK. They DEMANDED. Because "family is everything," right? Family is LOVE. Family is SUPPORT. FAMILY IS A FUCKING LIE. They're always busy with their work and never even find time to spend with me unless it's to parade me around as the cautionary tale! "Don't end up like Ayronee!" "Study hard or you'll be like Ayronee!" "At least YOU have ambition, unlike Ayronee!" I hope they LOVE watching their son being mocked and humiliated! I hope they're PROUD! I hope they fucking CHOKE on their pride! Damn it! God DAMN it all! God damn every single one of them to the hell they've already created for me!)
## Part III: The Bar
A while after eating his food-if you can call mechanically chewing and swallowing without tasting anything "eating"-our guy Ayronee casually makes his way to the bar.
Because what ELSE do you do when your family treats you like a carnival attraction? When your existence is a punchline? When your own blood uses you as a punching bag to feel better about their own mediocre, meaningless lives?
You DRINK. You SIT. You calculate drop distances and terminal velocities. You Google "painless ways to die" on your phone while pretending to check emails. You contemplate the exact dosage of pills that would be fatal versus just really, REALLY unpleasant.
You know. NORMAL WEDDING THOUGHTS!
He orders something strong. Whiskey. Neat. Like his plan. Then another. Then ANOTHER. The bartender doesn't judge-good bartenders NEVER do. They've seen it ALL. They KNOW how this ends. They've watched this movie before, and the ending never changes.
And while sitting there, contemplating the exact point where alcohol poisoning becomes fatal versus just vomiting for hours, his relatives never miss a chance to be "NICE" to him.
Wave after WAVE. An endless TIDE of cruelty disguised as concern. Of malice wrapped in caring words. Of poison delivered with a smile.
An aunt with too much Botox and not enough empathy: "You know, my son just got promoted. AGAIN. To SENIOR MANAGEMENT. He's only twenty-five! Can you BELIEVE it? Twenty-five! Have you considered maybe... TRYING? Like, ACTUALLY trying? Putting in EFFORT?"
An uncle whose breath smells like expensive cigars and moral bankruptcy: "Still single, huh? STILL? At your age? Well, women DO like a man with ambition. And a job. And a FUTURE. You know, the BASICS. The bare minimum. Standards. Have you considered lowering yours? Or do women need to lower theirs? HAHA! Just kidding! But seriously."
A second cousin who peaked in high school and has been coasting on that glory for a decade: "Saw you're not on social media much anymore. Ashamed? I mean, I would be TOO if I were you. Nothing to post about, right? No achievements, no girlfriend, no LIFE. Hey, at least you're CONSISTENT! Consistently disappointing! HAHA!"
A distant relative he barely knows but who somehow knows EVERYTHING about him: "Your parents must be SO worried about you. I heard your mom CRYING at church last week. Actually CRYING. She was PRAYING for you. Praying that you'd turn your life around. That you'd finally make something of yourself. Sad, isn't it? How you've let them down like this? How you've FAILED them?"
Each word a BULLET. Each sentence a KNIFE. Each conversation a small DEATH.
Still, he ENDURES it all. Keeps DRINKING. Keeps the facade UP. Smiles when he wants to SCREAM. Nods when he wants to flip the table and set the building on FIRE. Laughs when he wants to CRY.
The alcohol helps. The numbness helps. The creeping, comforting CERTAINTY that this will all be over soon helps most of all.
## Part IV: The Rescue
Fortunately-and thank whatever cruel, indifferent, probably non-existent god is watching this slow-motion car crash-our guy Ayronee gets a saving grace: his childhood buddies arrive at the wedding celebration!
JOE and RIFF! The only two people in this entire building who've ever given a genuine, unconditional SHIT about him!
HURRAY! Our heroes arrive! The cavalry! The light in the darkness! If only they knew what they were walking into!
They spot him from across the room-sitting at the bar, hunched over like a question mark, like a man who's already decided on the answer, surrounded by relatives circling like sharks who've smelled blood in the water.
They exchange a LOOK. The kind of look that doesn't need words when you've known someone since you all had dreams and possibilities and futures.
Oh, if I were them, PUNCHES would rain left and right! TEETH would fly! BLOOD would spill! But oh well-they have to be POLITE. They HAVE to! Society's rules! Decorum! Not making a scene!
They move in for the rescue.
Joe: "Excuse us. Sorry to interrupt your conversation-" (Not sorry at all) "-but can we borrow Ayronee for a minute, please?" (His politeness is a weapon. His smile doesn't reach his eyes.)
Riff: "Yeah, it won't take long." (Translation: Get the FUCK away from our friend before we make you.)
Relatives: "Yeah, no problem! Take your time-we're DONE here anyway. We'll take our leave." (Translation: We've already drawn enough blood. The show's over. Time to find new entertainment. Time to ruin someone ELSE'S night.)
They scatter like ROACHES when the light turns on. Off to gossip about what just happened. Off to add THIS to their repertoire of Ayronee stories.
Ayronee: "Thanks, guys. PERFECT timing. I was about to..." (He trails off, takes a breath) "Never mind. Let's go somewhere else. The rooftop. I need some fresh air." (Pause. Then, to the bartender:) "Mr. Bartender? Can I get one LAST bottle? Brandy, please."
That WORD.
LAST.
It hangs in the air like a NOOSE. Like a CONFESSION. Like a GOODBYE disguised as a drink order.
The bartender's eyes FLICKER. He KNOWS. He's seen this before. That look. That tone. That quiet desperation masquerading as calm. That peaceful acceptance of the unacceptable.
Bartender: "Here you go, sir." (Hands over the bottle with a look that says: I know what you're planning. I know how this ends. I've watched this movie before. But who am I to stop it? Who am I to interfere with a man's final choice? Who am I to judge? Good luck. God speed. I hope you find the peace you're looking for. I really, truly do.)
Ayronee: "Thank you." (Opens the bottle IMMEDIATELY and drinks while walking toward the exit) (GULP! GULP! GULP!)
The burn feels GOOD. Feels like SOMETHING. Feels like a preview of what's coming. A warm-up act.
Joe: "Yo, slow down with the drink, dude. Seriously."
Riff: "Yeah, man. Save some for us."
Ayronee: "RELAX. I'm just tipsy. Let's keep moving. I'm so fucking TIRED of this shit." (His voice is FLAT. DEAD. Already GONE.)
## Part V: The Gauntlet
As our guy Ayronee and his buddies pass by the tables-running the GAUNTLET-some people, well, mostly his goddamn relatives, keep STARING at him and TALKING:
"Yeah, he really doesn't have any future. NONE. AT. ALL. He's peaked, and THIS is it. This is as good as it gets for him."
"That's why no woman is attracted to him. I mean, just LOOK at him. Would YOU fuck that? Would YOU date that? Exactly."
"I KNOW, right? Look at him-he's almost WASTED. At a WEDDING. Classy. REAL classy. No wonder he's single."
"Sucks to be his friends, though. Why do they even BOTHER? Charity? Pity? Masochism? What do they GET out of it?"
"Well, if I were a failure like him, I'd kill myself! SERIOUSLY. I'd jump off a building or something. Just END it. Why prolong the SUFFERING? Why drag it out?"
"Poor guy. But also... Darwin, you know? Natural selection. Not everyone's MEANT to survive. Some people are just... evolutionary dead ends."
"I give him two years. MAX. Before he does something STUPID."
"Two YEARS? That's GENEROUS. I give him two MONTHS."
"Two months? I give him TONIGHT."
(LAUGHTER)
Each word a NAIL in a coffin. Each whisper a shovel of DIRT. They're building his grave in REAL-TIME, and they don't even KNOW it.
Or maybe they DO. Maybe that's the POINT.
Ayronee keeps WALKING. Keeps DRINKING. Keeps that smile painted on his face like a DEATH MASK.
## Part VI: The Ascent
The elevator ride up is QUIET.
Too quiet.
Joe and Riff can SENSE something's wrong. They've known him too long NOT to notice. The way he's holding himself. The way he's breathing. The way he's NOT looking at them.
But they don't know what to SAY. What DO you say to a friend who's drowning? "Swim harder"? "Try not drowning"? "Have you considered NOT drowning?"
The malice of those voices keeps playing in Ayronee's head like a LOOP. A MANTRA. A PRAYER to the god of endings.
Failure. Failure. Failure.
Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself.
Nobody wants you. Nobody needs you. Nobody will miss you.
You're a burden. You're a joke. You're a waste.
The elevator DINGS at each floor. A COUNTDOWN. A TIMER. Each floor bringing him closer to the end.
Floor 5. Ding.
Floor 6. Ding.
Floor 7. Ding.
They reach the ROOFTOP.
The doors open onto cool night air. The city sprawls below-lights twinkling like stars, like promises, like LIES. So many lights. So many people. So many lives being lived while his is ending.
Ayronee walks to the edge, to the safety rail that's supposed to keep people SAFE but really just delays the inevitable.
He leans against it. BREATHES. Takes another drink. The bottle's already HALF-EMPTY.
Or half-full, if you're the kind of delusional optimist who thinks drowning is just aggressive swimming and death is just a really long nap.
His buddies follow, concerned but not yet PANICKED.
Ayronee: "You heard them, right?" (His voice is too calm. Too steady. Too PEACEFUL.)
Joe: "Heard who?"
Riff: "What are you talking about, man?"
Ayronee: "Those people. My relatives. My FAMILY. At the wedding. You heard what they were saying, right? Because I sure fucking DID. Every. Single. WORD. And you know what? They're RIGHT. They're absolutely, completely, one hundred percent RIGHT. I DON'T have a future. I AM pathetic. I AM a failure. I SHOULD just-" (He LAUGHS, but it sounds WRONG) "I'm even surprised I'm surprised about being surprised! SURPRISE! The guy everyone said would fail actually FAILED! Who could have SEEN that coming?! WHO?!"
Riff: "Dude, you're not making sense. Just calm down-"
Joe: "Listen, man. You don't need to listen to what those ASSHOLES say. You KNOW that, right? They're just bitter, miserable people who need to put others down to feel good about themselves. It's not about YOU. It's about THEM. You know we're here for you, right? ALWAYS." (But even as he says it, he can hear how HOLLOW it sounds. How INSUFFICIENT. Like putting a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound. Like offering thoughts and prayers after a massacre.)
Ayronee: "Yeah, I KNOW. And thank you. REALLY. Thank you for being good friends. The ONLY good things in my worthless fucking life. But here's the thing..." (He takes another drink) "While we were in that elevator, those voices kept PLAYING in my head. On LOOP. Over and OVER. Like a song I can't unhear. Like a truth I can't unlearn. And something inside me just... SNAPPED. Like a rubber band stretched too far. Like a bone under too much pressure. Like a mind that's finally had ENOUGH."
Riff: "Okay, just BREATHE, dude. We're here. We FEEL you-"
Joe: "We SYMPATHIZE with you, man. We DO. But listen, people are just JERKS. That's how they ARE. They're-"
Ayronee: (LAUGHING, but it sounds MANIC) "Jerks. YEAH. That's a NICE way of putting it. You know what I think? I think they're MONSTERS. I think they're VAMPIRES who feed on suffering. I think they're DEMONS wearing human skin. And the WORST part? They don't even KNOW it. They think they're GOOD people. They think they're HELPING. They think they're showing 'tough love' or 'being realistic' or 'preparing me for the real world.' THEY THINK THEY'RE THE HEROES OF THIS STORY."
He takes another drink. Then ANOTHER. His hands are SHAKING.
Ayronee: "Anyway, let's talk about something ELSE. Let's REMINISCE. For old times' sake. Remember when we were KIDS? Remember when we had DREAMS? Remember when we thought life was going to be an ADVENTURE? Remember when we believed ANYTHING was possible?" (In his mind: Yeah, I'd like to reminisce one LAST time before I finally end this borrowed time. One last taste of HAPPINESS before the main course of OBLIVION. One last good memory before the credits ROLL.)
And so they TALK. They REMEMBER. The good times. The innocent times. Before they knew how cruel the world could be. Before they learned that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you WANT it, you still LOSE.
They remember building forts in the woods. Staying up all night playing video games. Their first beers. Their first crushes. The time they thought they'd be friends forever and actually MEANT it.
They finish the bottle together.
Joe: "Good times, man. GOOD times."
Riff: "Yeah. The BEST."
Ayronee: "Indeed." (LONG pause) "It's getting late. You guys should head back to the event. I'll follow soon. I just need a minute alone. To think. To BREATHE. To... prepare."
Ayronee: "Thanks for the pep talk, guys. I feel a lot better now. REALLY." (In his mind: Yeah, I feel RELIEVED. LIGHTER. Like I've already made peace with it. Like the weight is already GONE because I know it'll be gone soon. So SOON. Just a few more minutes. Just one more step. Just one more CHOICE.)
## Part VII: The Fall
Joe and Riff start walking toward the elevator. Something NAGS at them. Some INSTINCT. Some sixth sense screaming WRONG WRONG WRONG.
But they push it down. Because surely he wouldn't. Surely NOT. Not their FRIEND. Not TONIGHT.
They're almost at the elevator when Riff glances back.
What he sees makes his blood FREEZE. Makes his heart STOP. Makes time FRACTURE.
Ayronee is climbing the safety rail.
Riff: "WHAT THE FUCK-JOE! JOE!"
Joe: "AYRONEE, NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! GET DOWN! GET THE FUCK DOWN!"
They RUN. SPRINT. Their feet pounding against concrete. Their hearts pounding against ribs. Their lungs SCREAMING.
But it's already too late.
It was ALWAYS too late.
Before Ayronee jumps, he TURNS. Looks at them. SMILES. A REAL smile. The first GENUINE smile they've seen on his face all night. Maybe in YEARS.
Ayronee: "Goodbye. Thank you for everything. Thank you for being my friends when nobody else wanted to be. Thank you for caring when nobody else did. I'm sorry it had to end like this. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry I'm choosing peace over pain. But I'm NOT sorry for THIS. This is the first choice I've made in years that's actually MINE. That's actually FOR me. And it feels... GOOD. It feels RIGHT. It feels like FREEDOM. So... goodbye. I'll see you on the other side. Maybe. Hopefully. If there IS an other side. And if there isn't? Well. That's even BETTER."
His voice is SOFT. PEACEFUL. GRATEFUL. FREE.
Riff and Joe: "AYRONEE, NO!! PLEASE!! DON'T!! WE LOVE YOU!! PLEASE!!"
They SCREAM. Their voices TEAR through the night like something PRIMAL, something ANIMAL, the sound of watching someone you love choose death over the life you're desperately trying to offer them. The sound of HELPLESSNESS. The sound of FAILURE. The sound of a heart BREAKING in real-time.
But he's already FALLING.
And as he falls, time does that thing it does in moments like this-it stretches and compresses simultaneously. He's falling for YEARS. He's falling for SECONDS.
His life doesn't flash before his eyes like they say in movies. Instead, he feels... NOTHING.
And that NOTHING feels better than ALL the SOMETHINGS he's felt for years.
No more pain. No more humiliation. No more disappointment. No more trying and failing and trying and failing and TRYING AND FAILING.
Just... PEACE.
The wind rushes PAST. The ground APPROACHES. And Ayronee thinks:
Finally.
FINALLY.
FINALLY.
He HITS the ground.
## Part VIII: The Aftermath
Ah, these sons of bitches called PEOPLE-these MONSTERS in human clothing, these VAMPIRES of the soul, these PARASITES who feed on suffering-will now GRIEVE.
Oh, how they'll GRIEVE!
They'll CRY at the funeral! They'll wear BLACK! They'll say "if only we'd known" and "we tried to help" and "there were no signs" and "it came out of nowhere" and "we're shocked" and "we can't believe it"!
They'll LIE.
Oh, how they'll LIE!
IRONIC, isn't it?
How I LOVE the irony! Oh, IRONY-you beautiful, cruel, magnificent MISTRESS! If I could HUG and KISS you, I would! If I could MARRY you, I'd propose RIGHT NOW! IRONY, I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IT HURTS!
The same people who PUSHED him to the edge will now cry that he JUMPED.
The same people who MADE him want to die will now MOURN his death.
The same people who TOLD him he should kill himself will now say "what a tragedy" and "so young" and "so much POTENTIAL."
POTENTIAL.
That WORD.
The CRUELEST word in the English language.
"He had so much POTENTIAL."
Translation: "He failed to live up to OUR expectations, and now we'll pretend we had FAITH in him all along. Now we'll pretend we were ROOTING for him. Now we'll pretend we're SAD instead of RELIEVED that the family embarrassment is finally GONE."
His parents will CRY. "Where did we go WRONG?" they'll ask. "We gave him EVERYTHING!" (Except time. Except attention. Except unconditional love. Except BELIEF.)
His cousins will post on SOCIAL MEDIA. "Rest in peace, cousin. You'll be missed." (By who? By YOU? You who mocked him at every opportunity? FUCK YOU.)
The relatives will shake their heads. "Such a WASTE." (Of what? Of THEIR time? Of THEIR expectations? FUCK YOU TOO.)
And life will GO ON.
Because it ALWAYS does.
The world doesn't STOP spinning when someone dies. The sun doesn't STOP rising. People don't STOP living their lives.
There'll be a funeral. A burial. Some tears. Some speeches. Some LIES.
And then EVERYONE will go back to their lives and FORGET.
Because that's what people DO.
Anyway, let's CONTINUE, shall we, my friend?
And so, as he's falling, as he's closing his eyes for the last time, as gravity does what gravity does BEST-
He comes CRASHING to the ground!
T.H.E. ..... E.N.D.
## Part IX: The Twist
SIKE!
JUST KIDDING!
You thought it ENDED, didn't you?! You thought I'd let you off that EASY?! HA! GOTCHA! FOOLED YOU! BAMBOOZLED YOU! HOODWINKED YOU!
Oh, you sweet summer CHILD! You beautiful, naive FOOL!
CONGRATULATIONS, my friend! With a capital "C"!
How do you spell the letter C? Does it spell like this: SEE?
And "F"-what the HELL does the letter "F" stand for, you ask?
It stands for YOU, of course, my dearest synonym of the word "Buddy"!
Figured it out yet? Did you SPELL it out? Did you put TWO and TWO together? If you did, the last THREE letters from that word are a synonym for "conclusion," right? RIIIIGHT?
SEE + END = ?
Come on, work with me here! Use that beautiful brain of yours!
Anyway, I'm just MESSING with your head! Playing GAMES! Having FUN! But SERIOUSLY-if you combine the word I "spelled wrong" intentionally for the letter "C" and the last three letters from the synonym of the word "Buddy"... well, you can clearly "SEE" now that it's NOT just the "END"!
And HEY! Uh-huh! DO NOT DENY IT-you clearly read BACK again, didn't you?! You scrolled UP! You tried to FIGURE IT OUT!
HA! GOTCHA! CAUGHT YOU RED-HANDED!
And by the way, before I forget-CONGRATS if you think I'm an idiot who's intentionally spelling words wrong! As you can SEE, there's NOTHING wrong with the spellings! I spelled "SEE" correctly!
I spelled everything CORRECTLY!
HAHAHA! It's YOU! It's been YOU this whole time!
Anyways, SORRY for messing with your head, my friend! I just got a little bit carried away with some wordplay, you know? A little linguistic TORTURE. A little mental GYMNASTICS. It's FUN! You should TRY it sometime!
But let's CONTINUE, shall we? Let's get BACK to it!
So where were we?
Ah, YES!
Our boy Ayronee just became a PANCAKE on the pavement! SPLAT! Like a water balloon! Like a dropped tomato! Like all your hopes and dreams when reality hits!
But here's the THING, my lovely, beautiful, slightly traumatized audience-
Death? That's not the END.
Oh NO, NO, NO!
That's just the BEGINNING!
See, when Ayronee wished for peace in death, he forgot to read the FINE PRINT. He forgot to check the TERMS AND CONDITIONS. He forgot that the universe has a SENSE OF HUMOR, BY that i mean it's "YOU" and "ME" Why? because this is our universe yeah and our SENSE OF HUMOR? YEAH, RIGHT IT ALSO MAKES ME SICK BECAUSE! it's DARK!!. REALLY dark. Like, "makes the other peoples i mean the "NORMIES" humor look like a children's book" dark.
Death doesn't give you what you WANT.
Death gives you what you DESERVE.
And Ayronee? Our poor, tragic, broken, DEAD Ayronee?
He's about to find out EXACTLY is going to happen to him. I know you're grinning too ye little devil!
See you next chapter.