A Mind at Death’s Door
The keyboard in the adjacent cubicle chattered robotically. Leaning back from his desk he massaged his temples trying to sooth the numbness of his brain. What annoyed him wasn’t the actual sound of the long red fake nails clicking against the black plastic keys of the keyboard, but that it continued from the time he arrived in the morning until he left in the evening. Even a computer took breaks to install updates, crash, or whatever. But this woman never stopped! At least he assumed it was a woman from the sound of plastic nails on plastic keyboard keys. He had never really had been interested enough to peek over the cubicle wall to check. Most of his workday was spent within the safety of the modular walls of his cubicle concealing his lack of productivity. But if he regretted his antisocial nature it mattered not, for today was the day he was going to die.
It wasn’t that he was suffering from a deadly cancer that had run its course, or that he a rare and lethal disease. No, those would be much too exciting to ever happen in his life. In many ways life had been a personification of the keyboard chatter from the cubicle next door. He had grown up in middle class suburbs, had average grades and average looks, had an average salary, and a ridiculously insipid job. In retrospect the insipidness of his job was the only thing keeping his life from complete mediocrity. And now his choice to end his own life would be the second.
This wasn't the first time he had contemplated taking his own life. There was the time in elementary school when he had peed his pants in front of the whole school when he had been called up onto the stage for winning a raffle, and in high school when he was tripped in the cafeteria and spilled his tomato soup on Lily Jennings (the most popular girl at his school). Then there was that time in college… But he didn’t want to remember that. Before he had always reacted to a catastrophic event, something that if he were a turtle he would have pulled in his head and appendages into the safety of his hard shell to hide, but this time was different. He wasn’t embarrassed at all, just bored to death.
The decision had been made, and the logistics of the aftermath already taken care of. He had written a letter explaining his reasoning, not that he really had any. The house plants that had resided in his apartment were now living at neighbor’s, and he had posted a cute cat video to his social media accounts to be remembered fondly by. All in all the preparations had been made. The only question that lingered in his mind consuming his thoughts was how would he end it all?
It was a tricky question. Kicking his feet up onto his desk he folded his hands across his stomach and considered his options. The roof was a solid option. Its how people always did it in movies. A simple step off the roof to a rapid pairing with rocky asphalt had its perks but he was afraid of heights. Even standing on something as low as a table would give him the shiverers and he would freeze involuntarily unable to move at times. No, just the thought turned his stomach like a washing machine. He was a being who had evolved to the point that suicide from falling from height was impossible.
He pulled his feet off his desk and stood up leaving his cubicle. Walking over to the water cooler he pulled a paper cup from the cup tube next to the water jug and filled it up. Staring at the tank he watched as the air bubbled to the top of the tank echoing hollowly under the humming fluorescent lights. Drowning would be a terrible way to die. Just imagine being immersed by water, crushed by overwhelming pressure struggling helplessly for air. It was one of the many reasons he did not take baths.
Back at his desk he continued to ponder his options. As the time ticked away he ran scenario after scenario through his head looking for the perfect option but time and time again his phobias thwarted his imagination. Looking up at his computer, he started. It was time for him to leave and he had yet to complete his to-do list even of one task. He shrugged then packed up his briefcase and turned off his desk lamp. Tomorrow was another work day after all. He would have plenty of time to figure it out then.