Whats the point in living anymore
Amro looked at the cup of noodles in his hand. Something was so sad about noodles in a cup. Especially when you're forty years old, fat, drunk and depressed. But Amro didn't care, he didn't care about being fat, or drunk, or old, it didn't matter anymore.
Life had hit a pointless dull to him. Wake up, leave bed, go to work, come home. No girlfriend, no wife, no husband, no kids, no relatives, nothing but utter loneliness. Sometimes he thought he had voices in his head but even they abandoned him.
It was almost like the world had simply forgotten about Amro. And Amro had forgotten about the world. Sun did not shine in Amro's life, literally and figuratively. All day everyday he lived in his house, never leaving, never talking. Occasionally the old women next door, would knock just to make sure he wasn't dead.
Life was not good for Amro. One day he was watching TV when something just clicked. Why live? Why walk the earth anymore? What was the point of it all. He didn't do anything, he didn't love anything, he wasn't really a human. He was just an insect living his life of monotony.
If there was one thing in this life that Amro would be good at it would be killing himself. He would be the grand champion of killing yourself. It was the thing that would finally make him unique, make him stand out.
Amro lived in the center apartment of his apartment building but of course on the one day he had to kill himself the elevator broke. It was the first time that Amro had been out in nearly forever. The last time was the funeral of his parents, they had died pathetically but at least they still had each other.
It took Amro forty minutes to even get to the top of his apartment building. He had gotten tired on the stairs so he had to spend a solid thirty minutes recovering from his walk. Amro stared at the door to the roof in fright.
The outside scared him, his hand shook, he almost turned back but he focused his will and broke through the mental block that was the outside.
It was nighttime and nobody was on the roof. He shivered from the cold, he should've at least worn something nicer when he was about to kill himself. He climbed onto the banister blocking him from jumping.
He looked down, he had always been scared of heights ever since he was a kid. Every time when he was a kid, he would look down from the top of a building and start shivering. He looked down this time and he wasn't afraid.
The ground would welcome him as a friend, maybe even giving him a cup of tea. He was almost ready to die. All he had to do was get one person to remember him. Just one. Amro laughed to himself, something about that was so funny to him.
He had some paper in his pants pocket. He was planning on writing his grocery list down on it but now it was being used as a suicide note. He took out a pen and the paper and just wrote the word goodbye along with his name.
The last thing the world would know about him was his messy handwriting. He looked, no, stared, at the city, maybe for a split second wanting to turn back. Maybe the next day he would find a girl, or a guy if he was lucky. He doubted he would be that lucky.
"FUCKING GOODBYE WORLD!" He shouted to the city. Nobody heard him like always. He threw his ball of paper and jumped.
What they don't tell you about suicide is how quick it is. They say there's the light flashing before your eyes but there isn't. You're just alive one second and then before you know it you're dead. Amro's last thought being alive was, "I left the oven on." And then it all turned black, no Dark Souls you died, no light. Just black.
Until he woke up on the sidewalk completely alive, and physically well.