The End of One Such Life

"It's pointless."

If I had to sum up what goes through my mind, and how I generally feel towards everything–that's what I'd say.

I'm pointless. That's the center of it all. I don't exist to further anything in society, I don't live for anybody else, and nobody lives for me. If I disappeared, the world would continue moving forward as if I was never here in the first place.

I've only made it this far out of spite. I don't have any reason to be here.

My name isn't important. Who I am doesn't matter. I just want…to end it, already.

In the middle of a star-filled night, he kept his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark-blue coat as he breathed out a frosty breath.

It was the peak of winter, bringing in a coat of snow that caked the sidewalk as he trudged through it with a destination already set in his mind.

Brushing past his youthful face, his unkempt, snow-white locks flowed in the winter winds as he pulled his plaid scarf up just a bit to keep his mouth warm.

Almost there, he thought.

As cars passed by him, the winds grew more bitter. As people passed, slight doubts of his destination came to mind as he heard their smiling conversations, but he continued to march forward until reaching his desired location.

A bridge.

It stood far above the water below, towering over it from such a distance that it was difficult to even see through the layer of mist above the water that formed in response to the cold.

"Here we are…" he said.

The vast tides of the body of water below filled his ears as he stood there by the railings of the bridge, placing his hand on the cold, rustic steel.

"...My final stop."

Waiting for cars to pass by as their blaring headlights filled the night-laden bridge with their light, he passed over the railings after it was clear.

The only thing he was worried about was being seen by a passerby at the wrong moment.

I'd rather not have a hero come and save me, he thought.

It seemed the wind grew more daring as he stood on the edge of the bridge, keeping the soles of his shoes on the snow-slick, slippery flooring that hardly fit half of his foot.

Like crystallizations of winter itself, snowflakes rained down as he looked up towards the night sky, with the wind howling in his ears as his white locks were brushed by the gust of air.

He allowed a long, misty breath to leave his lips as he exhaled after bringing his light-blue gaze downwards to the water below.

I thought standing right here, seeing it face-to-face, I'd be scared. Or rather, doubtful, at least. But, I'm not. Nothing's changed. I still want it. I still want this, he thought.

Standing there with a single step being the only thing between the end and tomorrow, he watched the tides sway while allowing his thoughts one final opportunity to talk him out of this.

One reason. A single, good reason to keep going. That's all he needed.

Nothing.

It felt as if his mind was clouded by a dark fog that prevented any light from seeping through. He knew it already–there was no hope of finding that reason.

"That's it, huh?...That's life?" He said to himself as the wind blew fiercer, "...I can't say I want any more of it."

With that last thought, he allowed himself to fall forward as he let the forces of gravity pull him down. It was during that fall, surrounded by the cold winds and the snow that filled those winds, that his heart finally began to resonate in his eardrums–thumping and thumping, wildly as his blood ran warm.

Why is it now, on the precipice of death, do I feel…alive? He thought.

As he faced towards the night sky up above, he stretched his hand out, reaching for those distant, glittering stars one last time before–it was over.

Immediately upon impact, it all went black.

It all ceased.

It was over.

Or, so he thought; so he wished.

To his begrudged surprise, he felt the heaviness of his eyelids, and the feeling of his body emerged completely in a body of water.

Though, surprisingly, it wasn't cold. In fact, it was warm and soothing, caressing his body with a liveliness that almost forced his eyelids open.

It was a perplexing situation, though he wished not to live any longer, the fate of drowning pushed his body to flail on its own as he dragged himself to the surface of the clear, natural water.

"Ghah…!" He gasped for air the moment his head penetrated the surface of water.

Even further confusing him, he looked up to see it was daytime; a beautiful, spring day with clouds peacefully sailing across the blue sky.

What's going on? He thought.

As he sat there, moving his arms slowly to keep afloat, he found himself in a clear, mountain spring, surrounded by flower-inhabited rocks as the sounds of the waterfall to his peripheral filling his ears nicely.

Off in the distance, past the edge of the secluded spring, he could see the forms of many mountains, sitting silently in the blissful valley.

"Welcome."

The sudden, masculine voice forced him to turn around in the water.

His eyes met on the form of an old man with a seemingly endless, white beard that was resting on the grayish brown surface of the spring just as he sat. In his hand, the man of seemingly many decades held a long, prominent pipe that he inhaled before exhaling smoke through.

"Who–?"

"--Am I?" The mysterious old man finished his question.

He fell silent, staring at the wizened, kind eyes of the enigmatic elder as the man seemed to perfectly understand his thoughts, stroking his lengthy beard with a small smile.

The man wore nothing but simple, teal robes that did nothing to hide his thin, hairy legs that he let rest in the soothing water.

"I can give you thousands of names; "Yahweh", "Allah", "Brahma"...but, the one and only name that works across all is–"God"--however, you may call me whatever you wish," the old man told him.