The man dropped to his knees, under the weight of the sun's scorching beam. It was low in the sky, but that didn't seem to help with anything. The man looked into the distance, and saw on the horizon the tiny speck that was his goal. He allowed himself to fall forward onto his hands. He ignored the burning of the sand on his palms. Sweat streamed from his face into sand, where it evaporated in seconds. Like his will, it was leaving his body, without any way that he knew of getting it back.
He completely detested suicide. It was a cheap way of removing yourself from your problems. However, when did giving up and allowing yourself die change from suicide to death by dehydration? Was he committing suicide by allowing his body to collapse now? Did it matter what the root cause of it was, if the fact remained that he'd be long dead before anyone found him?
With labored effort, he pushed himself back onto his knees, and opened his arms to the sun. Wishing that the sun was feeding him energy instead of sapping it away, he allowed himself to stay like this for a couple minutes. Eventually, he made his decision. He determined that he had passed the line, and he was fine with it. He allowed himself to fall onto his back, slowly closed his eyes, and let exhaustion overtake him.
No comments:
Post a Comment