lacuna

Epilogue

Fallon's pov

They ask, "What's the point of living when we're going to die anyway?"

But that itself is the point. The point is to make the best of the life that you were given, cherishing every good aspect of your life and bearing through every bad aspect. Think of it as a chance. A chance gifted to you to build up your character, achieve your dreams and choose your own path. A chance to gather experiences; learn and earn a living, make friends, make enemies, fall in love, grieve, have kids, grow old. Think of it as cake. Refusing to eat cake simply because we will eventually run out of it is pointless. We eat cake to enjoy the taste and the moment of pleasure we gain from it. The point of living is just "living" until our times arrive.
Life is a train. At a station, you board the train and start your journey. On this journey, you decide what to do with your time on the train: you can sit quietly to wait for your end station, or read newspapers, listen to music, or talk to people around you to build some new connections or argue with some annoying people, or you can do some good deeds like catching a molester, giving your seat to a weak elder, or you can sleep for the entire journey.
Life itself has no purpose.
But you can choose an uneventful journey, there's nothing wrong with that. Or you can have some fun on the way. How to have fun is up to you. Yes, you will eventually die. Life will sometimes seem long, tough and exhausting. And you will sometimes be happy and sometimes sad. And then you'll be old. And finally, you'll be dead. Existence is empty. But the sensible thing to do with this empty existence is to fill it.

And I realised that too late.

There's life after death.
Yes, there's life after death.
The world continued after I died. It was as if the world didn't even notice that I didn't exist anymore. Except for the people in my inner circle. And that was enough to give me the guilt and pain of ending my suffering to only transfer it to them in return. It wasn't only me that died that day. It left vast rippling effects on those whom I loved and those who loved me back.

I stood by, observing Asher's red and swollen eyes, noticing every time Justin would run outside or to the washroom to throw up despite the cold facade he kept over his face and Wren's useless attempts to comfort them. I could only watch as Asher kept snapping the hair tie around his wrist gently, gazing at it. And I could only watch as Justin merely sat behind his drum set, just fiddling with the headphones in his hands. But Eli was never with them. He had locked himself up in his room and I couldn't do anything as I watched him trash the space, screaming and yelling, ignoring his friends knocking on his door. I could only watch as he refused any food, living off of his cigarettes and bottles of alcohol, eyes swollen and hair messed up. He would occasionally throw on a different shirt but would normally spend weeks on end with the same outfit. I could only watch when he punched his mirror, the shards cutting into his knuckles, dripping blood but he hadn't cared, tears streaming down his face, pain twisting his expression. But no matter what, he didn't skip school.

School.

My locker was newly painted with handmade cards and letters pasted over the metal door, decorated with blessings I never got when I was alive. It was Mr Limbrey who announced my death, more of a disappointment clouding his face rather than any grief. I heard every whisper and remark made about my death, about how I had everything I wanted and needed and I still ended my life.
And the funny thing was people started approaching Eli, expressing their sadness over the situation. And I had to stand there as he yelled at them, his words echoing through the hallway. "Say her name one more fucking time with your shitty mouth and I'm going to make sure you're the one who's buried under six feet".
And I was there when he spoke up during a talk the principal gave about suicide prevention, interrupting the occasion.
"You know, the funny thing is, two innocent teenagers had to fucking kill themselves for you to raise awareness about this and the other hilarious thing is that with all that massive boastful talk about helping and listening to one another's problems, you've only bred a school of bullies and rapists who doesn't give a fuck about others".
And then he'd walked out as I watched, my heart aching, hoping I could somehow take away his pain. But, amongst it all, despite locking himself up in his room and rarely spending time with Ash and Justin, he learned. He studied. He practised. He listened. He worked. And if I was there with them, right now, I couldn't help but wonder if I would've been happy. If I would've been in the process of healing, even if it would've been slow and painful, with them by my side.