Last Words

It has been several months now since I have been heard. I have spoken, whispered, laughed, whistled and screamed many times. I have pleaded until I was blue in the face only to have the person in front of me look at me as though waiting for me to speak. I have tried babies, animals and alleged psychics and none of them seemed to indicate that they even understood I was trying to communicate with them.

I am not invisible. People can see me and feel me, and as one undignified experiment proved, even smell me just fine. They even talk to me, but then look perplexed and bewildered that I do not respond.

Everyone thinks I am mad. My girlfriend of the past three years left after a week of this. Nobody would have known had she not posted about it on Facebook. But I cannot even comment. Emails, text, nothing.

My family and friends think I have gone mad. They even held an intervention to tell me that my prank had gone too far. I tried to tell them. I even wrote it out for them, but when they looked at the sheet of paper it was blank and they became further aggravated.

Of course I was fired from my job, but I hated that job anyway. Now I cannot get another. You cannot find any type of employment when you have no means whatsoever to communicate. You cannot even get any kind of benefits or beg properly. Sitting with a hat in front of me on the street managed to get me a few bucks worth of change, but not enough to pay my rent or bills. So now I am homeless, too.

I know what happened to me, but I do not know how it happened. Whatever witchcraft silenced me is not in any books I have been able to find on the subject at the library, or even anywhere on the web. Of course, I haven’t exactly been able to ask around on forums.

There was no doubt I had a bit of a road rage problem. Not that I was wrong. Peoples lives and habits no longer intersect with good driving habits, which is why computers will take that over soon. But the rage, and the fits, those were on me. And honestly I was trying to get it all under control.

Then one day there was a woman who kept stopping and starting, reaching speeds of ten miles per hour and then slowing back down to a halt before abruptly starting again. There were no stop signs and the road ahead was open and clear. Traffic had backed up behind us at least twenty deep on a road that rarely had that many cars on it’s entire stretch at any given time. It was maddening. How dare she waste everyone else’s time with her vehicular malfeasance?

Finally we came to a light, and she pulled into the left turning lane. As I pulled up beside her I began reciting a litany of every profane-ridden curse I had ever heard uttered in anger, and invented a few for good measure. I was practically blue in the face as she just sat there looking at me with a stupid smile, which enraged me that much more.

I will never forget what happened next. Those five seconds before the light turned green and she pulled away, while I languished in disbelief, will never stop repeating themselves in my mind as long as I shall breathe. Silently, of course.

In a flash she pulled out a small knife, just big enough to stab clean through a medium rat, and thrust it up into her face. She slid the blade across first her top, then bottom, lip. As the blood ran down her chin from her still smiling, bleeding mouth, she blew me a kiss. Then she was gone. Forever.

From the depths of the haze facilitated by my incredulity, I managed to drive myself the rest of the way home. When I tried to tell Lira about it, she just stared at me, eventually becoming angry and then finally storming out of the house. That was the beginning of the end of our relationship.

Strange as it may seem, I have come to enjoy this curse in some ways. Except for the broken relationships with everybody I ever knew, the poverty and homelessness and the inability to make very simple things happen – there is a certain peace I have never known. The complicated situations which arise from communication now look almost more trouble than they are worth. As I look out among the Heard, I almost pity them. I almost feel sorry for the linguistic, semantic and semiotic cages they trap themselves in.

However there is one thing that maddens me and will always prevent me from the final plunge into peaceful unattachment, and that is my last words. The last words I ever spoke to another human were pure vitriol. To say I am not proud of them is an understatement. In my mind, I will always somehow be defined by them.

It is a shame when a body leaves this world without having left behind a wise, meaningful last thought. Maybe even something ironic or darkly humorous. Yet it is altogether another when you actually have to live the rest of your days eating your own terrible last words in silence.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s