Endless

I look up at the night sky, staring at the few stars that can be seen through the endless light pollution in this endless city.  Dull realization sets in as I remember tomorrow is my birthday. Wow. Another birthday. Another year.  As I lay on the hood of my car I can’t help but think of the past. I can’t help but to wish for a better time.  A time when life was easier.  

I remember grand parties with many people, some I don’t even know. I remember smaller parties with close friends and family.  I remember happy times. Times when you could see the stars. I sigh finally heading to bed, with memories of the past swirling around in my mind, and filling my head with useless wishes.

My alarm buzzes loudly in my ear and I dread getting up in the morning. Another day of work. Another year. Another birthday. I look at myself in the mirror for a moment, and remember my past self. Young, athletic, pretty. I scoff at my new self as I rub the sleep from my eyes, grabbing a cup of coffee.

I walk to work. Only four blocks away, I don’t have a car.  My feet carry me there slowly. I pass a couple of young people talking happily outside of a bakery. Overly happy for this time of the morning, in my opinion. I used to be a morning person. Not anymore though. I think of those times when I used to love the morning.

I sit at my small office desk. A nice job. With nice people. A decent pay. I should be satisfied. There are many people in this endless city that have it worse than I do. Endless amount of people that deserve better. In this endless universe and this seemingly endless life of mine.  I’m almost middle aged and stuck in an endless loop of life. 

I get a notification on my phone that reads ‘happy birthday’ from an app. How sad. No real people here to wish me a happy birthday. Not even family. I think about years to come as I watch the nice people pass my desk. Nice people with husbands and wives. Nice people with loving families to go home to.  I never thought that was something I would ever want. As a child I never dreamed of coming home to anything. But now, I wish I had a hand to hold, someone to love.

Tears stream down my face quietly as I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into this endless loop I've found myself trapped in. I stare at my blank computer screen in front of me, hoping nobody will see the tears that won't seem to end. Blank. Blank like my future. Blank is an endless word.

Finally the work day is over, and I look at my feet.  They carried me here and they’ll carry me back, just as they have done for the past three years I’ve been working here. I walk back home, thoughts of my future fill my head this time. I pay no attention to the things around me, unlike usual. I think of how my future holds nothing for me. How do thoughts of nothing fill my head? Empty thoughts I can’t seem to shake, they fill my head like a thick fog.  Nothing is an endless word. 

Blank. 

Endless.

Nothing.

    I don’t even realize where I am until I’m standing outside my door. My feet carried me back, just like always. I go inside and I sit and I think. I think of thoughts. I think many things and many thoughts. Sometimes thoughts that shouldn't be thunk. I think.

    I think.

        And I think.

                And I think until I have no more thoughts.

    I find myself standing under a tree, with a rope. I think, I have no more thoughts left to be thunk. I find myself standing on a bench in the middle of the night. I find myself with a rope around my neck. I look at the endlessness of space. The endless amount of stars that I can’t see from earth with this endless amount of light pollution. The night sky is dark without any stars to be seen. I used to like the stars. When there were so many stars in the night sky that you could see where you’re going without a light. When there were more stars than a single person could count. But now, without the stars, the sky is dark.        The land is dark.        Dark. another endless word. I look at the stars, the few stars I can see in this endless city. I can count them, there are so few. I can count 10. I remember when I was ten. When life was easier. I remember my tenth birthday. Today is my birthday again.

    Once again I look at the endless sky in this endless city in this endless universe in this endless life. No. not an endless life. This life will end. I look up at the few twinkling stars in the endless universe. I think about the story someone told me once when I was young. When you die, you become a star. Happy birthday, me.

    Endless.

Blank.

Snap.

Dark.

Nothing.           

    Someone comes along on a night stroll through the park, thinking about how short life is. How you don’t have enough time on earth to waste being unhappy. Even the earth will end one day. They whistle to themselves on their night stroll, when something stops them in their tracks.

    They slowly walk up from behind the hanging body, and pull out their phone. They hear on the other side of the line ‘911 what’s your emergency?’

“I would like to report a suicide, at the park.” They say and turn off their phone, in shock of what they see. They walk around the body to look at the body’s face. A middle aged girl. Someone they knew in high school.

    They look up at the night sky, and think that everything comes to an end eventually. Even the sun. Even the stars. Life is too short to be wasted on being unhappy. “Happy birthday.” They whisper to an old friend, even though they know it’s too late. They count the few stars that are visible. They count eleven.