Peace. Emptiness. It's enveloped me as my body is resting. Warmth takes me over. I am finally comfortable. This peace, shattered by the sound of my alarm. What kind of sick joke is this? I just finally fell asleep. I open my eyes as my body jolts to life. Each blare of the alarm pierces me violently. I scramble out of bed sloppily and shut it off. A yawn and stretch over take me as I stand in the bathroom doorway. Great... Another day. How do people do this? How can we just do this every day until we die? Nobody even cares anyway. Anger and frustration takes hold, existing without purpose. Just like me. Life's a fucking joke. I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. Cool, refreshing, feels good. My hands rub my stubble causing irritation on my neck. I need to shave... Who cares? What ever, I take a piss, rip a fart and flush. Everything is routine. EVERYTHING. Nothing seems fun when you reach mental maturity. It's all the responsibility. I don't want it anymore. Is it because I'm lonely? I just don't know anymore. I sit at my table. A bowl of bran flakes, soggy and cold, in front of me. I eat slowly as I read yesterdays paper. Heh, another war? Another problem with another country. Another innocent murdered in cold blood. More political bullshit. No one cares about your God. Why do we get so hung up on this bullshit? Your God is the same God as mine, fucking realize it. We come from the same creator. Why are we so ignorant to everything? I wish we could all unite and just work together for the greater good of mankind. We could collectively solve all of the Earths problems by uniting under a common goal. Things would just be so much better. I head back to my room and begin to dress for work. I look at the picture frame next to my bed. The picture of my ex, smiling, reminding me of how happy we were. I open the blinds, letting in the warm light. Dust particles sparkling and flickering. As I head to the closet I stop in front of the mirror. Thickening in the body and thinning in the hair. Is this what getting old feels like? Jesus, I can't even imagine myself as an old person. Wrinkles, achy bones, dentures, and no time left. What does my future hold? I don't even know what's going to happen in 2, let alone 5 years. I just don't know. I can't imagine dying, and it's hard dealing with death. I open the closet and put on my best clothes. A white collared button up, purple tie, black slacks, black socks, my nice dress shoes, and my shiny leather belt. I slip on my jacket that matches my slacks and tighten my tie. It was hard dealing with the passing of friends and loved ones... Charlie, Justin, Irene... Laura. But know it's just the way it is. Life goes on. Just like it'll be when I die. Emptiness. Peace? My hand reaches under the pillow, gripping it's hard rubber handle tightly. My thumb reaches over and pulls back the hammer until it clicks. The chamber rolls and locks. Mortality. Fucking people with their immortality complex. People act like they are going to fucking live forever. What a joke. Why do we even bother? If everything is going to end anyways, why do we do it? Tears well up as I stare at myself in the mirror. Look at what I've become. I don't have it in me anymore. I didn't ask to exist. I didn't want this. A gift? More like a curse. I squeeze slowly and then... Silence. Peace?
A half hour passes and the police enter a simple apartment in a large complex, investigating a gunshot. In the bedroom they discover the remnants left behind by a man. A man who was made of synthetic material. A cyborg built for the human condition. Left behind by some unknown engineer. Just another suicide for the books.
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