The Beauty of a Dying Soul

"Maybe there is a god after all"

  

June 24, 2020: 4:37 AM

    

      I'd been drawing. More specifically, I was practicing drawing a living, moving reference. It was one of my pet beetles. His name is Barney, named after the purple dinosaur, and he was of the species "Asbolus Verrucosus", a kind of darkling beetle native to the desert areas of Arizona and Southern United States. After studying his structures and roughly scratching them onto the page, I'd decided it was acceptable. I pulled out a ball-pointed pen. It was a generic brand, I think I got it from the dollar store. Yet again, I scratched the structures onto the page, this time using the sketch I'd made previously as a guide of sorts. During this process, however, I'd noticed my bladder was full. I was delighted, as my kidneys were most likely functioning properly, as per usual. There was a small problem, though. I live with other people. These people tend to be asleep at this hour, and they expect me to be as well. The walls are thinner than paper, and everyone can hear when I open a door. This compels me to finish the drawing I'd been working on. 

      I finish the crudely drawn image and decide that enough is enough. I stand up, quietly, mind you. The floor creaks under my footsteps as I head towards the old, squeaky door. Turning the knob, I pray to my absent god that no one hears me. My hand shakes with anxiety. I open the door and hear the woosh and crackle that echoes throughout the house every time the door opens. 

      I relax after realizing that no one heard. I continue my tread to the bathroom, cringing with every step on the creaky, old floor. My mind is weighed down with dread as I find that I must go down the stairs. I consider going back, but there isn't any point in going back now. I start the descent to the bathroom, fully regretting chugging the quarter of a liter of Diet Coke I'd chugged the day before. 

      I've finally arrived. I'm standing in front of the doorway to the bathroom. I walk in and close the unnecessarily creaky door. I unbutton my pants, followed by the zipper. I then reach into my boxers and pull out my penis. I proceed by urinating in the toilet below. I put away my penis, then zip the fly and button my pants. 

      I turn around and see a big, beautiful cockroach on its back. The thing is pretty big, coming in at around 2-3 inches. His legs aren't moving, but his antennae are. I stand there and admire the beautiful creature at it sits there and begins to see darkness. After the short time of knowing him, I can tell he didn't have the chance to reproduce or interact with a female cockroach in a sexual manner. Thoughts race through my head as I think about what I should do. I look down at the poor arthropod and put myself in his shoes. I'd be dying on the bathroom floor, surrounded by the cold nothingness of the tiles and greeted only by the occasional fly. I'd want this stranger to take my virginity, as it would give my life meaning. I live to reproduce, and if I couldn't do that, I'd just be a waste of oxygen. I end up unbuttoning my pants, once again, and  show this dying soldier my penis. After giving it a good look, I catch a gleam in his eye, one of wonder, followed by contempt, and the dullness of death. I look down solemnly as a tear falls from my eye and lands not too far from his body. I can feel his soul crawling up my body, as if to console me. I feel him continue to crawl up as he begins to ascend. I wave goodbye to him and look up, smiling. With a heavy heart, I walk away to wash my hands. 

      I head upstairs with cold tears streaking down my face. I lay in bed, after praying for him to be happy up there.

Maybe there is a god after all.