Aaand we're back. I
mean we never left. We were just quiet, lurking in the shadows, kept our
breaths until an opportunity presented itself. Wait a second... Did I say we?
Who the hell is we? Why are we talking in plural here?
I meant
John. Clearly. Obviously. Silly me, talking about anyone else. There is no
anyone else. Just John. Forever and ever, like in the fairytales. Or was that
in the nightmares? I don't even know anymore.
Anyhow,
let's get back to what's important. John. He is his own story after all. He's
even in the titles. Even though important is quite a big attribute to give to
John. He's only important for himself, only in his head, only in this story
which is his. By him, with him and about him. Maybe not really by him, but who
cares? It's not like it's relevant.
As we
left him, John was, I think, on the verge of a glorious death. A beautiful
death. A death that would set him free. He was almost on his higher ground,
almost on his peek, right when he was at his lowest point. But it's been a long
time from then, hasn't it. You'd think he'd made it, you'd think that's why
he's been gone for so long. And you'd most certainly be... Wrong. Yup, still
here, still riding strong. Still alive. And what a beautiful time to be alive.
Well not for him, but in general.
Oh no,
not for him indeed. He waited and waited and waited. And nothing. Nothing ever
happens. He longed for it for so long, that it all went to shit. And he needed
another to realize. Another false promise. Another beautiful lie that kicked
him in the head and caused some sort of epiphany. A commotion actually. And it came, not as expected, but it came. A
false friend, a false lover, a testimony of truth nonetheless. It all came
clear then.
John
shall never die again. He's stuck, or
better yet condemned to live. He will never find what he's looking for. That
beautiful death, that liberating feeling of letting go just to get caught by
life at the very last second. That rebirth. It's nothing but a myth. Condemned
to live forever and forever condemned to live. Like in some sort of limbo, like
in a persistent state of life. It's funny if you think about it, to realize
that there's nothing more to life than living.
Now
let's take a moment and reflect about this so called realization. This new
element in the life of John the undying. She, because obviously it's a she, came
like a storm and left even faster, wreaking havoc all around her. At first
glance, just another night she was, just another fun time. Not even worthy of
remembering. And that's exactly what made her special. What sparked the flame
of illumination in Johns head, if you want. That she was just another one of
the, not many, but few.
That's
John's curse, that's his sin. He'll never find death because death doesn't
exist in his world anymore. Only numbing pain. A perpetual game of Russian
roulette. With no bullets in the chamber. But he doesn't know that. He keeps
pulling the damn trigger, hoping for that bullet to come out of the barrel and
shatter his brains all across the universe. But the bullet never comes. No boom
breaking the silence.
Only click... click... click...
