Five years ago, someone asked me a question. Yeah, a question. That's what I'm going to talk about. Think about, rather.
No, it doesn't seem like much. And it probably wasn't meant to be much. Honestly, it was a question. It shouldn't have affected me as much as it did. But this is what it was:
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Now, it was a good question, one everyone is asked. It's meant to be a joke, right? Well, twelve year old me had just heard it for the first time. Yeah, I had never heard it before until I was twelve. And I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Why did the chicken cross the road? What on earth could the chicken want that wasn't on the side of the road they were on? The answer was meant to be simple.
To get to the other side.
I didn't accept that answer. What could the chicken possibly want? Was there more food on the other side? A better life? I figured there had to be something else, a reason.
Something deeper.
One day, it hit me.I remember it. The time I figured it out, I mean. It was around 3 am, and I heard my father stumble into the house, slamming the door. I remember curling up in my bed, praying for him not to come up there. I could slowly feel my mind start to detach itself, wandering into the dark void known as anxiety. I did anything I could do to try to not let my brain go. So I thought;
Why did the chicken cross the road?
And then, the answer came as quickly as the question.
To get to the other side. It made sense.
The answer was death. The chicken probably knew that they wouldn't make it across the road in one piece. They had to have known. It's why they did it.
The side of the road they were on was life. And then they crossed the road to get to death.
The chicken wanted death. They crossed the road to get to the other side. Whether it was heaven or hell, the chicken wanted to get to the other side.
It just so seems that that chicken and I aren't so different.
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A/N: don't worry. It'll get better and longer. I promise :)
Trust me, the story hasn't even started.
YOU ARE READING
And Then There Was Nothing. {discontinued}
FantastikThis story is discontinued and I'll never write in it again. However, if you'd like to read what's left of it, you are more than welcome to do so. **** I've made a lot of mistakes. Unfixable ones. Right now, I could be in jail, an orphanage (yeah, a...