When I was young, I thought I truly had it all figured out.  Life and I were pretty tight.  Anytime I wanted something, life was there, with exactly what I needed.  It seemed it would always be that way.  Unfortunately, when you’re dead, life kind of shrugs its shoulders and says, “Sorry, wish I could help.”

Well, dead is a relative term.  What would you call it if you still feel like you are walking around, interacting with the world, but you have no control over what you do?   Is that living?   If I used to have a soul, is it gone now, somewhere else, and my brain is still stuck in this body, watching me do what I do day in and day out?

I don’t know.  Like I said, dead is a relative term.

Do I agree with the things I do?  Certainly not!  But if you don’t have any control over what you do, does it matter?  Mostly I’ve gotten to the point where I just try to ignore it, and keep my thoughts occupied with different things.  Positive things.   All the wonderful memories I had when I was young and thought I had it all figured out.  It’s amazing how real a memory can feel when you need it too.

Every now and then I’ll see somebody that is still like I used to be.  If only I could communicate.  Oh well, the best I can hope for is that something changes and my mind takes control of my body again, or, more likely, somebody puts a bullet in my head.

I’m assuming a bullet to the head will actually finish me off.  But who knows, I also never assumed that I would ever be walking around, making animal noises, eating human flesh.

Like I said, life and I used to be pretty tight.

Used to be.

First sentence of this story submitted by Trey G. It received the most votes for sentences submitted the week of October 1, 2012.  

Please leave comments below on if you liked the direction I took the story, or if you would have personally went a different way.  I would love to know!