Solar Meltdown

Letter left at foyer table on march 28th. 

For the curious minds out there, 

I feel the desire to explain the motivation leading to my death. Which shall take place on the morning after the writing of this letter. First, let me make it clear that it was my desire to perform the action, and no one, except myself and my creator is to blame. Second, I would like to describe what it was like to grow up with my condition, so you can further assess my decision. 

I had my first crises in my pre-teen years, during summer break at my grandparents' place. I used to spend most of my vacations there so I could play with the neighborhood kids. They were nicer than the kids at my school, likely because they didn't really know me. Anyhow, they wouldn't judge that I ran around in a sweatshirt in ninety-degree weather. 

The heat didn't bother me. The dirt and sweat even less. What bothered me was the pain inflicted by the sunlight on my skin. Actually, scratch that, during those days what bothered me the most was the necessity to fit in. You see, I wasn't the most sociable kid around, and those kids were nice to me. So, when they asked me to do something, or dared me to do it, we all knew it was going to happen. 

What happened you ask? They wanted me to take off my sweater. Simple right? Well, no. My sweater, although not magical in essence, protects me from direct sunlight on the more sensible parts of my body. The absence would result in sheer pain to me. But again, as mentioned, I feared the children more than pain, so I just took off my sweater. I am unsure how being burned at the stake feels like, but I believe it is something quite similar to what I felt. That was my first mistake. 

Sadly, it was not an isolated incident. Similar events occurred throughout my teen years. As a result, my parents had me acquaint every medical professional and a few unprofessional mumbo jumbo healers in town. Matter of fact, I've acquainted more of them than I have kids in my group age. And none, despite all their attempts to poke, stick, and dig with every available medical test were capable of figuring out what I had.  

They could’ve of course, if they would listen to a teenager. Which adult ever does? The answer was right in front of them, from about 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. depending on your time zone. The sun, magnificent and all giving star, capable of directly or indirectly powering all systems in our small earth, was also the unforgiving villain in my life story. Most say that the night is devious, that is because they never met who the night runs away from during the day. With no more than a beam of direct sunlight on my fragile skin, the pain of one thousand stab wounds would afflict me.  

To top it off, the son of b**** doesn't leave a single scar. I guarantee you the pain is real. As real as a kick in the balls. No scar is left, but every man dreads it. Same principle applies to my skin with sunlight, but since I'm the only one who reports it, it must not be true. Eventually, my doctor appointments became less and less physical, and more focusing on what they called therapy, as if I had a problem. 

I spent my late high school years in a special place. They supplied me with food, pink pills, and slippers with no laces. Those were the good days, I got to be inside and never got to leave. Sadly, dreams end, and so does money. Who would guess that an old building run by a few joyless nurses would cost my parents their savings? 

Eventually I got to where I currently am; a prisoner in my own home. All my windows are tightly shut and covered with a multitude of curtains, furniture or paint. Not a beam of sunlight would pass through and not a smidgen of my farts leave.  

Luckily, I also had played the role of warden, and gave myself permission to leave, but only during the nights. My actual job was as a pawn dealer during the graveyard shift near the Indian cassino. Sounds terrible, but I got to see weird people making mistakes and ruining their lives. Made mine seem less pathetic. 

For a while at least. One of the customers came in one day with what he said was dust from the moon. Preposterous I guess; however, he began explaining all these different properties of rocks, how they reflect light in different manners. And, how our ability to see the moon is because of the reflection of sunlight on its surface!  

That was a pretty nasty punch in the guts. And to worsen my condition, tonight was full moon. The moonlight, or should I say sunlight that reflects from the moon, rushed in my direction. The windows in the pawn store are bullet proof, but that didn't matter, because they weren't sunproof! 

I left my position and decided to go straight home. I usually walk through the main roads, my only chance of seeing normal people, even if they're just stuck in traffic. But this time I took an alternate route through the alleys, it would get me home sooner. Along the way I could feel my skin burning, ready to burst, reaching the peak of pain just as I opened the door and fell to the floor. 

I stayed in place, in fetal position for what seemed like a few hours, but turned out to be a couple of days. Nobody called. Not my boss wandering why I didn't go to work. Not my parents. And not my friends, since I had none; except for some virtual buddies that knew me by my nick, vamplord. 

I was done. What reasons did I have to live? I couldn't go out during the day because the sun would burst me to flames. I couldn't go out at night for the same reason, ironically. Boy, if I had any knowledge of the existence of electromagnetic waves, I'd have to live in a cave! 

So, do you understand why it had to happen? Well, even if you don't, no change backs now. 

So long interested reader! 

Diary entry on March 29th, evening 

Well, that didn't go as planned. Guess I should document this moment for posterity.  

All I did was take a single step outside my front door, for most this is nothing special. However, I did it at noon, when the evil bastard is at its peak menace. I expected to be consumed by flames just like a witch during Spanish inquisition. The truth however was something way unexpected. I was cured!  

How? Why? When? I can't answer these questions. But, as the intense glare faded, I was capable of perceiving that I was still pretty much alive. Biologically alive to be more accurate. I sold my soul at an internet forum years ago.  

I stood there for a minute, grasping what it meant like to be outside again. It felt somewhat overrated. That was enough for the day. Maybe tomorrow I'll grab the paper in the curb.