AVOIDING THE TRUTH

AVOIDING THE TRUTH
by Anyone

I wonder where I am. This room looks familiar. My dog is rubbing my leg, but no one else is here. Oh, I’m so sleepy, but I want another drink.

The young man took a sip from the beer can in his hand. Then his head lolled forward and his eyes closed. He felt slightly sick but didn’t want to move. There was no reason to stay awake. No one else was in the room.

No one cares, he thought. No one ever comes to see me... except my father comes sometimes, he reminded himself.

Deep down, he knew the truth that his father cared for him, but he would not admit it to himself. He was determined to stay stubborn. Why did he need anyone’s help? But his heart was begging someone to respond.

A faint memory of happiness stirred his mind. Why was he never happy now? Was that another life that he had lived? Perhaps he had lived in another world. If only there were another world! This world was dull, yet stressful.

There was something he should be doing. But it tired him to think about it. It took too much energy. The beer made him so relaxed that he couldn’t do much. He liked that feeling. It was too much effort to go into another room or to fix something to eat.

He threw the empty beer can across the floor. Moving his feet, the pile of beer cans on the carpet rattled. What a funny sound! He was showing the world that he knew the best way to live. Why get a job or clean the house? He was too smart to fall for the lie that everyone needed to work. He would show people the best way to live.

Everything was free, anyway. His mother or dad always helped him out if he ran out of food. His dad wouldn’t give him money but he would buy cigarettes for him if he was desperate. Dad used to smoke years ago, and he understood. Why didn’t Dad smoke now? That was a puzzle. Guess he just didn’t want to spend the money.

Dad wasn’t much fun. He was always going to church. What a life! Why does he let other people tell him what to do? Dad seems happy, though. He never complains, but sometimes he tries to tell me that I shouldn’t drink. He just doesn’t know how much fun it is.

I wonder whether he would take me to the hospital if I got really sick. I know that someday I’m going to be sick because I have mistreated my body for so many years. I hope someone will take care of me, because I have no health insurance.

Oh, well. Not to worry. Maybe I will just die. That would solve a lot of problems for everyone. But I sort of like being alive. When I die, there will be nothing going on. I will probably die like a dog. No life after death, that’s what I tell everyone. I like to shock them, so I say it whenever they talk to me about God.

Who cares about God? God doesn’t care about me. He just wants me to go to church and listen to an old man talk and talk and talk. That is boring. God could give me a million dollars so I could be really happy. Then I could smoke and drink and never stop. I wouldn’t need to get a job. Life would be perfect.

I don’t talk to God. He ignores me, so I don’t believe in him. I’ll show him who is master! I am master of my fate, and I like to drink. It makes me feel good. No one can stop me.

The room grew dark as the sun set outside. His heart was dark, too. He had no hope. (But there was a way out. He would find it someday.)