something about scott was never quite right . and he could kind of maybe tell that he maybe possibly definitely was not the only one who noticed it when he got labeled as a downer one week and TOO MUCH the next , when competitive sports only held his passive attention until taking a ball to the face gave him a thrill , when he had too much energy to fall asleep at night and not enough to get up for class or work the next morning . he’d have said he was living this whole LIFE THING backwards , but that’s a normal direction , a direction some things —- like the ever - symbolic trout —- do travel . so maybe he was going sideways instead . or diagonal . or some other , unknown way of sashaying into oblivion .
he was apathy that could burn vigorously through steel , so his chest was no match for his flames . emptiness always came in its wake , and in that desolation , he wanted so desperately to be NOTHING . but he was already too many things to be nothing —- already practically EVERYTHING by the time he was eighteen .
being EVERYTHING looked like holding an entire galaxy inside of him ; holding an entire galaxy inside of him looked like a parachute hit .
in college , he learned that people liked consistency , a reputation , so he decided to be one thing —— consistent . and that seemed to do the trick . of course, “ the trick ” consisted of alcohol , lots of it . and people liked that . and he liked that people liked that . and , up until the launch of the jaeger program , every positive adjective that ever flowed in conjunction with his name came streaming out of the mouth of a bottle .
he turned himself into a gun the second he was given the chance to point it somewhere other than himself . but his decision to be self - possessed meant his demons followed him everywhere . they loudly followed him around , throwing rice at their weddings to the beings in his closet , who weren’t just skeletons , but full - bodied zombies . the apocalypse came and his own brother left him to die in the camp .
his decisions stretched into his eternity , and he lives with every intention to die that way , in a puddle of mediocrity and whiskey with track marks down his arm and a track record of letting people down . everybody remembers him for some semblance of what he was and more infamously of what he became , but not everything he could have been if he’d known he was allowed to want to be it .
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