You might think that achieving eternal life would be quite an extraordinary feat. Living forever to experience everything that the world could offer. Passing through the ages and seeing history unfold first hand. Amazing, right? Wrong. In fact, it’s an eternal torture in disguise to fool the masses. Why do I think so? I’ve experienced it, or I’m still experiencing it. Forget days, forget months, and honestly, I’ve lost track already while enduring all the pain, the hardship and the suffering. There were no breaks, no weekends, no paid leaves, nothing. It goes on and on without a stop.

It still baffled me how I couldn't die without eating, drinking, or even from the creatures here that were having a wonderful feast of my flesh and blood. Undying, immortal, death less, eternal, fuck those things. I don’t want it. I just want to go to sleep and die happily like the rest of the people in the world. Are you saying I’m suicidal? Not if I can’t die.

Anger, desperation, and dark emotions that a fat and bullied high school student would feel. I have it all. It fueled me to move my hands slowly to my side until I could stretch it out and punctured my fingers into the ground and then pushed off. I slowly turned around with a painful grunt so that I would be lying face down. Imagine if I could see my current self in the mirror. I would surely see bloodshot eyes, a killing glare, an angry snarl with which my teeth could be seen, and a few veins protruding on my face. I could very well fit the common drug addict along the street trope.

Crawl

As my mind dictated, I crawled with my blistering fingers digging into the ground and then pulled myself forward a centimeter at a time. It might have been a pace akin to that of a snail, but progress is still progress no matter how small and miniscule it might be. And I got all the time to spend in the world and then some.

If I don't do anything now, then this endless suffering would consume me. Both mind and body. And do you know what happens after that? I don’t, and I definitely don’t want to find out.

I cursed every inch of the way. With every pull, I promised that I’d get even with whatever it was that’s nibbling on my toes. My preferred destination? A tropical paradise. If that isn’t available, then a convenience store would do fine or, you know what? Send me the coordinates of the nearest gun shop. I’m going to have fun hunting some game. My fingers are twitching for something to strangle.

Speaking of wild game, I miss my kitchen and all of the ingredients I stored inside my fridge. Where I can cook some budget mouthwatering food for myself on the weekends. My mind sometimes went blank due to hunger, even though I didn’t need to eat anything to stay alive. Water isn’t a problem most of the time when I can drink my never ending saliva reservoir, but when that demanding stomach of mine craves for something edible, I don’t know what to do. It’s not like there’s anything nearby that I can sink my teeth in and eat.

I, uh…

I suddenly took a bite out of something to my right. I don’t know what it was, where it’s been from, or heaven forbid the viruses or germs that it carried, but it tasted great. Better than eating nothing, of course. It’s not Michelin star calibre or even comparable to the food that I made, but it has a taste. An irony, funky, past its expiration date flavor. And it’s addicting. Like drugs, but not like drugs.

My memory’s been hazy after that. I wasn’t aware for how long of a time I’d spent or how much I’d consumed, but I kept on going. They took something from me, I take it back twofold. An eye for an eye, and a finger for something that I hoped wasn’t its reproductive organ.

If it’s going to be a long and bumpy road ahead of me, then I needed all the positive vibes that I could get from eating. You know, I have to admit that this is the equivalent of doing drugs. Maybe that’s why depressed people that have depressing problems do heroin and cocaine. To escape reality until by chance they can get out of it by sheer will and move on with their lives, or if someone out there graciously extends their hand to help a sad soul in the dumps.

I’m enjoying it, they’re enjoying me, it’s a win-win situation. No one gets hurt in all of this. Well, technically there were, but I wasn't dying and that’s what’s important. Not like I can overdose from binge eating these bastards because dopamine is a great way to fix your day.

I suddenly had the urge to laugh. You see? I’m having fun right now. It’s been a while since I laughed this hard. It just goes to show how enjoying the little things in life when you’re at your lowest is advisable to pull yourself together. By the way, who was the downer that said addiction is an illness? He clearly needs a taste of this in his life.