Watch
Time, seemingly infinite
Procrastination envelopes all
Seize this colorful twilight because tomorrow
We either breathe
Or are consumed into the
Black abyss
-Unknown

August 23rd, 1999
I always wondered what dying felt like. I wondered if the hundreds of movies, TV shows, poets, and artists had correctly captured the raw emotion of a human heart ceasing to beat. Death didn’t occupy my thoughts really. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, my life revolving around my mother, father, sister and dog, Snickers. I went to kindergarten, got stung by bees, fell off jungle gyms, broke my ankle, struggled to learn how to tie my shoes, but I was happy. Time was infinite to me. Every person in my life and everything I touched was immortal, and I began to believe my false illusions that my
life would never end.

People ask me why I did it. People ask at what point my life went wrong. And looking back, I know the exact moment. I never told anyone why I did it. That was a secret for keeping. But now, nobody can ask me questions. Nobody can get the answer they want.
They got what they wanted.
They wanted me gone.
And now I am.


December 18th, 1989

“DAVE! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!”
I shot awake, horrified and confused. The shouting person was my mom downstairs. Why was she downstairs? I threw the covers onto the floor and ran down stairs so fast I was out of breath when I reached the kitchen and found her, sitting on the ground, crying. A puddle of liquid surrounded her, soaking her dress.
“Honey! Hey it’s okay. It’s okay. I just need daddy okay? Can you go get him for me? Tell him it’s time for mommy to go to the hospital okay? Go Roman…Roman please, please.”
Without saying a word, I sprinted back up the stairs, realizing that for a 10 year old, I was extremely out of shape. I found my parents room amidst the darkness and flipped the light switch on. I ran over to my Dad, a legendary heavy sleeper and punched his left arm as hard as I could. I thought I had punched hard but my Dad merely rolled over and muttered a garbled “What’s up kiddo?”
“Mom needs to go to the hospital.”
He stared intently at me for a moment, almost like he genuinely had no idea what I was referring to. Then I saw it connect. His eyes widened, pupils dilated and he jumped out of bed, nearly hitting me in the face with his knee. I followed blindly, not understanding the complexity of what was happening. This time I walked down the stairs, trusting that my father was taking care of my mother far better than I could. When I came around the refrigerator, my mom was up and my dad was mobilizing, grabbing large, black bags and a light blue car seat. My dad, my amazing father, picked me up in one arm and told me that we were all going on a field trip to the hospital. I sat silently in the back seat of the car with my companion, the car seat. I flinched every time my mom screamed and felt sad that there was nothing I could do to help her.
“Dave I think something’s wrong. I don’t feel right. There’s something wrong with the baby.”
“Of course you don’t feel right honey.” My dad took my moms’ hand. “You’re about to give birth to a little girl. Everything’s gonna be fine, alright? Just breathe. In and out, in and out,” he chuckled, imitating the techniques they had learned at some class.

April 18, 1999
You know how you wait and wait in line for the most gigantic roller coaster you would ever dare to ride, the anticipation swelling. Finally, it’s your turn. They buckle you in, lock the safety bar with a jolting clunk. The chains jerk you forward, and you start to climb. You crest the top of the first hill, time suspended as your breath catches, anticipating the gut wrenching drop your about to be thrown in to. You know that instant? That’s how it feels when you shake hands with the monster. And once you get a taste, it’s all over.
“You know man she’ll come over if you just ask her. She totally digs you.”
“Nah I’ve seen her with other guys. She’s probably got one waiting to ask her out.”
“Well fine be a pu**y dude. Some other dude’s gonna f*** her and then you’re gonna get all torn up about it. I know you.”
“Alright, Jesus man. Drop it.”
I shoved the doors of Lebow Hall open so angrily, they flung back and hit me in the shoulder. I winced a little, but allowed the door to hit David on his way in. He was right. I know he’s right. But he didn’t have to be such a dick about it.
“Alright, see ya later man.” I had Globalization in a Technological World with Professor Shithead, my absolute least favorite class ever. I stopped outside the puke brown door, bracing myself for the impending doom looming behind those walls. I bent my head to the left, satisfied with the series of cracks and then to the right. Inhaled deeply, grabbed the cold brass door knob and exhaled as I passed through the threshold into my own personal hell on Earth. I sat in the back, planting myself in the least noticeable seat in the entire hall. Professor Greenburg glanced in my direction and I quickly bent over to my Northface backpack, pretending to actually get prepared for his lecture. Ha. At 9:59, a tidal wave of kids in pajamas ran into the classroom with huge mugs of coffee, all relieved that they had made it before the clock strikes ten. Professor Shithead is legendary for his lectures on the importance of punctuality. As my hand reached around my black hole of a backpack, it came to a small round object rolling around the bottom of my bag. When my hand connected to my brain, I immediately knew what I had found. My heart rate increased and I felt a wide grin stretch across my face. In my hand was a perfect little white pill.
The exhilaration that spread through me was like a Colorado wildfire. I felt my arm hairs stand on end and warmth spread through my bones, starting in my heart and creeping outwards. I rolled the pill through my fingers and rubbed my pointer finger over the little letters printed on the front. It was like God’s answer to my prayers. I grabbed my Nalgene, tipped my head back and popped the savior into my mouth. I allowed it to sit on my tongue, savoring the almost candy like taste of it. With a gulp of water, I felt it fly down my esophagus, traveling to my blood stream. For a moment, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and was suddenly very aware of my breathing. Then Professor Shithead dared to open his mouth.
“Alright everyone good morning good morning. Who’s excited to learn about global consciousness today? Very exciting indeed.”
Douche.

The next one hundred and sixty minutes flew by. I spent my time doodling, drinking water, staring at the clock, drinking water, eating a sandwich, doodling, drinking water…I was so thirsty. Then, I looked up one last time and by the grace of God, it was quitting time. I jammed all of my papers into my backpack, and threw my Nalgene on top, impaling them down to the bottom. I felt lighter than air. I passed back through the threshold, out of Hades, out of Lebow Hall and inhaled the crisp, autumn air. I shook my left arm, then the right and grabbed my cell phone from my butt pocket. Had I been sitting on my phone the whole class? That couldn’t have been very comfortable. I had 3 text messages, all from David.
David: “DON’T BE A PU**Y. And also, pick up some blue red bulls if you pass Shaws. Thanks man
David: “Ohh sorry totally forgot but your dad called. He sounded prettymad. He told me to tell you to call him asap me and drew are going to paddys tonight u should come
David: btw I found ten dollars and im keeping it.
I began to walk. I didn’t know where I was going. But I didn’t care. I kept my eyes glued to my shoes, watching them, left, right, left, right. I could sense people parting around me like the Red Sea, probably wondering about me, about my life. I halted when the sun vanished as I nearly walked into the side of a building. I looked up, dazed and confused as I locked eyes with a marble cherub, whose despondent eyes paralyzed me with a mixture of fright and gloom. I don’t know how long I stared at the cherub. An elderly man approached me and tapped my shoulder.
“You here for the prayer and healing service son?” The old man seemed to genuinely care about my spiritual well being. Must work here. I looked up, noticing the sign for the first time. How long had I been standing here? Freedom Church.
“Umm no just passing. Thanks.”
“Okay you have a good day now. Come back any time” The man smiled at me, patted me on the shoulder and was on his way.
His smile still haunts me. I didn’t notice at first, but as I walked away from the church, I realized how much that man looked like my dead grandfather. I eventually walked back to my dorm, flung myself down in my Eagles blow up chair, and fell into an empty, dreamless sleep.

December 19th, 1989
As I sat outside the hospital room, I began to sort of understand the meaning of life as I watched the masses of sickly people pass by me. Hospitals were this weird place where the circle of life started and ended. Do you live life just to come back to your friendly neighborhood hospital? You spend your whole life traveling, feeling, trying to make a difference and fighting, and in the end, none of it matters. You’re just a number, with a tag in a bed that passes away with needles stuck in you and tubes stuck down your various bodily crevices. My thoughts, along with that weird nylon-hospital smell that not a single person on Earth likes, were giving me a raging migraine.
Alright Roman, be positive. Come on.
Sporadically, roars of anguish and suffering blasted through the walls of my mother’s room into the hallway. She sounded like a dying lion, and it scared me. My mom was a strong woman. She never let anything break her.
To distract myself, I decided to take a walk, against my father’s demands. I was to sit outside until my sister was born. But those sounds were burning their way into my brain and I just knew I had to leave. I pushed the elevator down button, and waited with a blonde nurse, who looked like a relatively pleasant person, and a grey haired doctor. I studied his wrinkles, thinking about how much time he must spend at this hospital. I wondered if he had kids, a wife, a dog…friends. He noticed my intent gaze and stared back. His eyes were a sad grey-blue and I knew he had kids. He had a wife. Maybe he even had a dog. But being in this hospital was not making him happy. He was worn out and nearly done.

I reached the cafeteria floor and trudged over to a vending machine, investigating my options. You had your classic pretzels, potato chips, fruit snacks, snickers bars, and apples that looked about as old as Clint Eastwood. A5. My bag of Lays fell to the bottom of the mechanical monster and I retrieved them from its mouth. I struggled for a second to open them; you know when those damn edges just don’t rip apart? I grabbed the biggest chip I could see and shoved it into my ravenous mouth. I looked up from the chip bag and saw my Dad standing right outside the elevator, tears cascading down his face. I thought about all the little bugs on the floor that might be drowning in one of his tears.
“Roman we need to go upstairs. Dr. Ciarcia needs to talk to us.”
I dragged my body towards him, my heart beating in my ears. As the doors of the elevator shut in front of us, I turned to my father and stuck out my bag of Lays.
“Thanks bud.” He wrapped his arm around my neck as we ascended to an uncertain future.