Wade

Chapter Five

When I was alive I would often contemplate death. Not as an option but as a thing of interest. I never understood why death was such a terrible tragedy, why people cried at funerals, why people mourned those who had passed on simply because they were no longer with them. What a selfish thing to feel-sadness because someone has left you and not because they have no more life to live. Then again I've never lost anyone I hold near and dear, although I guess they lost me.

When I was alive I would spend hours wondering what people would do if I died, wondering if anyone would care. But why would they? I was the quiet kid, not athletic or strong or particularly smart. And even though I kicked ass at Doctor Who trivia that was hardly viewed as a practical skill. I died a seventeen year old virgin.

Damn.

If people were like rocks I would be sandstone. Plain and rough and boring. Something that doesn't draw attention, something no one would pick up if they saw it laying on the side of the road. Like right now, as I lay on the side of the road wondering if anyone misses me. Arms folded behind my head I stare at the cloudless sky that appears to have not changed in the past month. Ghost days are ridiculously long, so long that entire weeks seem to go by in the span of a living hour.

Maybe this is hell.

Maybe I'm doomed to forever lie here alone, watching life go on without me. But then I remember the little scary ass girl and wonder if maybe my true end is near after all. Maybe this is just one really freaky dream and I'll wake up in my bed, late for school and another day of hell on earth. On second thought, I'd rather be dead. At least there's no homework in Ghostland.

Its times like these that I really wish I slept. I've never felt so utterly exhausted and just drained of, well, life-but I guess that's the point of being dead. Death is simply the absence of life. Everything just continues as it was without you and you are left to watch it. We all want the world to stop turning when we die like it's some terrible tragedy, but in reality you affect such a small percentage of the world that the moment you die another is born in your place. We are, as a whole, impactful on the enviroment and the world, but unless you're Columbus or commit genocide (or both) or invent the lightbulb, no one's gonna remember you six years after you die, apparently.

I think I've had too much time to think.

RULE THREE: Don't hate people.

I miss having people to talk to and brush against on the street. Just little interactions. Alexis was right about everything, she used to say that I wasn't really living, that I was simply surviving.

But here I am, not only have I failed to live, but survival has completely gone down the drain. Surviving is overrated; lying on the side of the road feeling like the only person in the world is in.

What total bullshit.