The Eventual Demise of Isaac
Isaac had no reason to hate his existence, at least he couldn’t give anyone or even himself a reason but something inside him just made him despise everything. He couldn’t tolerate the way the sun rose or set, the way trees bent to the sheer will of the wind, the way people spoke about these phenomena as if it would make their worldly issues slip away, the way people had infatuations with other people. He had mentally disassociated from the world of humans and their place in it, as far as he could.
He had found peace in the hatred granted at birth, a peace that lay in dreams. An indecent night of sleep was when he dreamt of his day, his comings and goings, his position on the face of the Earth. He declared these dreams as nightmares, he despised them like most things. He was neither rude nor mean, he bore no grudge against mankind, just his existence, on the odd occasion he’d interact with people he didn’t treat them with disdain or cuss them out, he merely skipped through any interaction. He’d find himself at the end of the interaction running the entire thing through his head, akin to how a harsh food critic might find as much reason to berate the chef on the meal. If he could send the interaction back to the chef he would, and ask for it to be thrown away followed by a swift refund.
He spent many years of his life never finding love nor passion for anything and being left a sour taste in his mouth by most things. No animal, human, gorgeous sight across a rolling hill, a day at the beach, nor any activity he had tried could wash the distaste from his mouth, on many occasions it simply added to the plaque buildup.
He was lonely and miserable and somehow made his way through life. He had amassed a reasonable lifestyle, or at least what an average Joe might refer it to if he was anything resembling average. His dedication to scrubbing clean had aided him in developing a skill set very much resembling ‘Jack-of-all-trades’. There were even a few instances in which he was complimented on his abilities and ‘jack-of-all trade-ness’. However, much like how moonlight at midday does not affect how bright the sunshine, the compliment did not influence his view on things.
On his death bed, surrounded by nothing but machine beeps and a nurse. She had grabbed his hand as she watched his heart rate slow. She had gotten to know him a fair amount, more than anyone had in his life, even to his annoyance. She’d a disdainful sympathy for him, knowing his hate for life and his success in it.
A moment before he passed, he gave a whispered, “I think I like this.”. The nurse had taken it a bit forwardly and knelt and clasped his hand in both of hers and gave an assured, “I won’t leave you.”. He wished she would, she had ruined the moment. The moment, however, had passed and he was finally free of the Earth and its trivial happenings. Isaac was now happily dead.
