Choices

Last night I saved my life.

After almost 18 hours of sheer bravery and presence of mind I'm still unable to figure out why I did it? What life force was left in me after 19 years of being relentlessly misunderstood, crying myself to sleep at nights and seeking refuge in absurd literature that motivated me to help myself? When I was threatened by the external enemy how did my survival instincts overpower my lack of will to live?

It was late at night when I felt a negative presence. I was alone in my room listening to psychopathic trance and pretending to get high. It was when I went to refill my coffee mug when I saw it. Clad in a shiny reddish-brown armour pointing its tentacles towards me was a cockroach.

At once my hands reached out to grab the bottle of Hit standing near. I sprayed. It ran- to and fro. Frantically it was coming towards me. Body drenched in sweat, my heart beat sounded similar to death metal. My hands lost grasp of the bottle. It fell down making a characteristic metallic sound. I gave out a shrill cry and my enemy started to- hold your hearts- fly! I ran. It flew. I ran... Wait! It settled on the floor. Now was a do or die situation. I had to act. And so I did. Wham! went my bahamas. I dared not pick it up because after all this chivalry I couldn't bear to look at the sight I had created. It's still lying there under the bahamas. Convenient murder with no need to remove any signs. After all it was done in self defence!

It would have been another thing if suppose there was a man who had illegally broken into my house to spy on me. And suppose I had attacked him with pepper spray (the capabilities of which need no further explanation) thus aggravating him further just like the cockroach. And instead of bahamas I had a sledgehammer! Wouldn't I be in court answering questions right now, attempting to prove my innocence? Or perhaps that's too fast track, practically I would still be waiting for 'The Trial'.

Anyways, last night I chose my life over a cockroach's. Not an easy decision.