As he sat in the mess he created, he felt despair. The empty floors and the empty walls had only remnants of the material items that used to fill his rooms. The lone camping chair sat in the middle of the floor, directly in the middle of the room, facing nothing. He occupied his leisure time with movies that played over and over in his head. Sometimes the movies would be new ones, but they were mostly just repeats. He watched as his life crumbled, the beams and the pillars crashing to the ground as they blazed out of control. The chair was calm. It was safe.
Each day was a new day. One where he could potentially redirect the course of his life. It became more and more impossible to do so when each day he faced overwhelming failure. He desperately needed a job, but not just any job, a job that could pay the bills. Each new lead he obtained always led him to the same outcome: The place he had applied had selected someone more qualified. Failure after failure gave the man little hope.
He could no longer mask his pain with alcohol because he had too many times went overboard with it. Maybe if he didn’t black out so often he could take the edge off occasionally. His nights spent yelling about nothing led him to a sober lifestyle. No more drink to fill the gap of emptiness that rests deep inside him. Everyday, he could change his life, but he didn’t.
He would wake up each morning ready to achieve something amazing. Each day he would try. He would drink his morning drink, which quickly jolted him to life, and would then find tasks that would help him feel like he was getting stuff done. Each day, nothing was really done. He was wasting time. Job applications filled out, no callbacks still, sitting in his PJ’s and the camping chair, the man is hopeless.
Soon the power will be cut off. Blackness. Darkness. But there is nothing in his house to see anyways. Soon they will cut the gas. He has nothing to cook anyways. Soon, the landlord will ask him to move out of the house he isn’t paying the rent on. There is nothing in the house anyways. Sitting. Hungry. Staring into the void. The man so desperately wanted out of his hole, but the hole kept getting deeper.
The hole eventually filled with water, his head just barely above it. He didn’t care much if the whole damn thing filled with water. End this misery, he thought. He looked at the vague light coming in from the top and saw the sky turn to dark. His wish would soon be granted as the sky cried and let its tears fill his hole up.
The man had the biggest smile one could have as the water slowly rose. He covered his mouth, then his nose. As the water went over his head and his lack of breathing made him hallucinate, the man began to feel free. The problems and worries were lifted from him. He felt only joy. The pain was gone and the water was the cure.
The man sits lifeless in his camping chair at the bottom of his deep hole. He had dug that hole. He sat staring at nothing, feeling nothing. His favorite movie played over and over for the rest of eternity.