Suicide Sunday - oo3 (go back »)

I suppose I'll never know why Rudy was always so afraid. I think he didn't really know, either. He was always talking about how no one on the planet really knew themself, ever. How they could write all the literature and make all the movies they wanted, and they still would not have any clue as to who they truly are. I always used to ask about the people who told you about yourself. He would get this faraway look in his eyes and say, "No, Nicky, don't listen to them. They're just as lost as you are."
Tonight, I sit on my balcony and stare out into the city. I imagine what life would be like now for Rudy if he hadn't....
I decide to let it go and focus on the freeway a couple miles out. The cars speed past one another, their lights different colors and hues. It's a little past 1 AM now, and I know I should head inside. But I don't. I continue to stare off into the abyss, not really thinking about anything but not really blank. An hour later, when I yawn, I force myself to get up off the cold balcony surface and go back inside. I quietly shut the sliding door and feel my way through the dark to my bed. It's unmade and small, but it is warm and feels familiar. Sliding through the thin sheets, I think about tomorrow. What will I wear who will I see which classes did I have homework in I wonder what dad's thinking about right now?
Which, I know, is probably nothing. Ever since Rudy's "accident", as he likes to refer to it as, he's become a sort of robot. He gets up mad early and shuffles to work, then comes home way late and goes to bed. I rarely see him, and when I do, he's usually planted on his bed, gazing out the window at the boring street we live on. I don't think I've heard him speak since Rudy...
But I digress.
When my frantic brain finally shuts down, I roll over and close my eyes.
I find it strange that with all that's happened, I still want to live.

In Suicide Sunday(work in progress)