Time (Perrentes)

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Hey there everyone! I wrote the bulk of this in the middle of the night, and it was inspire by my lovely friend Piercethemayfire! She's absolutely lovely and she's an amazing author <3 anyhow, I hope you enjoy this. I'm actually very proud of it.

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"Mike, where do you think we go where we die?" One Tony Perry asked his boyfriend on a cold winter day. The question was one that had plagued his mind for many years.

As a child, you often wonder what things are out there in the big, wide world you have yet to explore. There could be anything beyond those iridescent walls you have yet to venture past. As a child, you wonder where you can go, what you can do, and, when you're young, you think you can be anything.

But when you are young, you have this delusion that you are invincible. You haven't the skills to comprehend that, for every action, there is a consequence. You are reckless, wild, and free. You jump, and you run, and you try your hardest to fly. As you age, you find that these once magical things often times end in injury.

As you start to age, you begin to understand reality a bit more. With each year that goes by, you see three-hundred-and-sixty-five, and every fourth year, three-hundred-and sixty-six more days of life. As each day passes, you come to grasp the concept that not everyone is happy. With every smile, there is a grimace that will follow.

When you start to fathom the idea of repercussion, you start you wonder what will happen when your luck runs out. A heart can only beat so long. A mind, no matter how intelligent, will someday grow slow with wear. Self-esteem will eventually grow weak when it bears the weight of the world. How much time does a person truly have, and what will happen when that time runs out?

"Why are asking?" Mike replied. Tony was never one to verbalise his thoughts, and when he did, it was usually concerning to Mike. When Tony articulated his mind, it often meant that a tyrant in the menagerie that was his subconscious had escaped its pen.

Tony had been a victim of too much weight on one person's shoulders. He spent far too many hours methodically thinking about his faults and wrong doings. He ostracised himself from social interaction so society wouldn't do it for him. Mistakes, in Tony's world, were something punishable by a blade.

He had discovered the escape significantly too young. At the age of seven, he brought a dull piece of metal to his skin. It was but cat scratch, but that cat scratch would lead to an addiction that put him in the hospital more times than you could count on your fingers.

Another escape crossed his mind when he turned twelve. The way he was living was pathetic. White walls after bleached floors after hospital beds was no way to live. The thought of suicide captivated him, so he sought it out. It seemed that each time he tried to meet with it, it rejected him. Three years of attempts and requests and a long period if begging later, he had given up. If suicide would not accept his friendship, then he would find it elsewhere.

"I don't know. I'm curious. Don't you ever wonder about things like that?" Tony asked the tattooed boy next to him. Mike had, on occasion, pondered the big questions Tony was suggesting.

Doesn't everyone, during their insomniated nights, brood over the meaning of their meager existence? Each person is simply a fish in a sea of brighter, more colourful, more fascinating underwater creatures. So why, in Heaven's name, would it matter if they were alive or dead?

Mike had discovered the answer one night. After hours of ruminating, trying desperately to find an answer, it hit Mike like a flashing light at the end of a tunnel.

The life of a person matters because, no matter how dull their scales, or how small their fins, each person holds a skill that no other can possess. Yes, you may share your gift of writing with another, but that other person will never be able to match your skills on the drums, or how you can convince a person that they are strong when they feel their knees buckling under from them. Every child is born with a unique combination of abilities. It can only be comparable to how the wind whisks the leaves, and though it may take the same in another gust, it is impossible to have the equal medley it once did.

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