Foreboding Bliss, Creative Writing, Spring 2011

         Fallen on my back, I lay on the ground. I survey the area around me. Teenage men wearing baggy pants way below the waist. I’d say get a belt, but it’s apparent they’re wearing them. They’re wearing hoodies that are too big for them. Some bear the logo of G-Unit, others And-1, the rest Nike. Hiding something evil no doubt in those oversized pockets. Listening to their hip hop records with headphones on, but for some reason I’m able to hear the audio from a distance. I don’t understand them, they’re just a nuisance to me. I see a twelve year old girl dressed like Paris Hilton. Good Lord, why? Why aspire to be a stupid spoiled whore instead of an intellectual? The worst part may be that the parents condoned this. I spot the child’s mother… she’s a whore… I guess that makes sense then. As I continue to survey my surroundings I see a woman on her cell phone. If I’m not mistaken she is eyeing me. No doubt she’s making fun of me to whomever she’s talking too. What I do to her? I’m on the ground, the least she could do is freakin’ help me. As I lay here dying, I’d be fibbing if I said I wasn’t happy to be. I can finally leave this God forsaken place. Life is God’s cruelest joke. Death is his way of apologizing. People go through life fearing their inevitable demise. Trying as hard as they can to prolong the inevitable. Wasting their time in my opinion. Death here I come! I suddenly see flashing lights followed by sirens. I guess that woman was helping me, damn. No I don’t want to live! I want to die! I hear the horrendous sound of running. Two men pick me up and place me on a stretcher. Get the hell off of me! I want to die! One of the men places a mask on my face as they load me into the back of the ambulance, sealing my fate. Goddamnit.