There are worse things than death. Like hope. Driving us ever forward… to nothing.
There is a belief held by those who call themselves “happy”, that when God closes a door, he always opens a window.
It’s been my experience that when God closes a door, he nails it shut. Then he boards up the windows, burns that fucker to the ground and leaves you to weep in the ashes.
I was what you would call “a realist”… eventually. I’d prayed and never been listened to. I’d loved and never been loved back. One bad decision after another. Lost my home, lost my wife… lost my way.
I never lost hope. I never had it.
Hope is for suckers. For the weak and the wishful. I knew what I was…. a cautionary example. A sad stereotype, searching for something at the bottom of that last bottle.
Escape. Oblivion. Peace.
Then … Her.
Luminous. Exquisite. Impossible.
Men clung to her like mist. Ephemeral, inconsequential. It occurred to me that she was the only real, lasting thing in this stinking room, this whole stinking world, and she was looking at ME.
The last, most beautiful thing, and she was seeing… me.
She smiled.“I would like to get to know you.” The words fell from her lips like jewels. I stuttered, 15 years old again. We talked. And talked.
I told her everything. Every. Stupid. Little. Thing. Every dream, every failure. Everyone I ever loved.
And I loved her. From the moment she looked at me, I was hers forever. I told her so. She smiled. “I know.” She kissed me. And I was saved.
For a moment, a glimmer of hope. Hope. The worst of all evils.
There is no kindness, there is no mercy; and when God closes a door, She nails it shut, then boards up the windows… and leaves you screaming in darkness, forever.
There are worse things than death.