Survival of the Fittest
“Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3.”
Okay it's recording.
“Survival Instinct.”
I look deep into the lens of the camera; into the eyes of the viewer.
“The majority of us have it because we have the power to. If you're not planning on dying then everyone has it. Every living thing has it. Just like a virus does to us, we do to the animals. A virus wipes us out to survive; or at least that's its story.”
I look past the camera into her eyes.
“There's always something keeping us alive; whether that be a person, an object or a fear.”
She smiles at me and I can feel its warmth. I look back at you through the camera.
“They say that if you're being shot at, your best bet of survival is running around a straight line. Dodging and weaving. When we think of our lives; our futile, monotonous lives, we think that all we can do is move forward rhythmically. If you're living the same day everyday, continuously walking in a straight line then you're bound to be shot at. You're an easy target.”
I drop my head for a second and rub my face with my palms, hard into the hollowed out sockets of sleep deprivation.
“Always run in a zig-zag. Make sure you make as many turns as you can because it will save your life.”
I lift my weary head and I fix my gaze on yours.
“But when you're staring down the barrel of a gun what instinct do you have left? You're too scared to make a move. When you're looking death in the face you can't blink for a second because you don't want to miss a second of what you have left.”
I look back at her and see her smile.
I see what my survival instinct is fighting for.
Was fighting for.
The sun shines through the window behind me for just a second but it's enough to make me squint as it reflects off her photo; off her endless smile frozen in time.
The smile that is now buried deep in the ground. Colder than it has ever been and getting more so by every second that I acknowledge it.
“As long as you don't come face to face with your gunman then you'll survive.”
She looked hers right in the eye, now I'm looking into mine.
“Live everyday as though you're being shot at because at the end of it, we're always in the scope just trying to avoid the end.”
Who knew she would be my survival instinct and my gunman.
I look back at you for a moment and nod.
“The day she killed herself was the day she killed me”
I look back at my wedding photo; into her eyes.
I lift the barrel to my head and with no second thoughts and no remorse...
I squeeze the trigger.
And the viewers stare into the socket once hollowed by lack of sleep but now hollowed by a smoking bullet.
And with this i give you your personal survival instinct.
“Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3.”
Okay it's recording.
“Survival Instinct.”
I look deep into the lens of the camera; into the eyes of the viewer.
“The majority of us have it because we have the power to. If you're not planning on dying then everyone has it. Every living thing has it. Just like a virus does to us, we do to the animals. A virus wipes us out to survive; or at least that's its story.”
I look past the camera into her eyes.
“There's always something keeping us alive; whether that be a person, an object or a fear.”
She smiles at me and I can feel its warmth. I look back at you through the camera.
“They say that if you're being shot at, your best bet of survival is running around a straight line. Dodging and weaving. When we think of our lives; our futile, monotonous lives, we think that all we can do is move forward rhythmically. If you're living the same day everyday, continuously walking in a straight line then you're bound to be shot at. You're an easy target.”
I drop my head for a second and rub my face with my palms, hard into the hollowed out sockets of sleep deprivation.
“Always run in a zig-zag. Make sure you make as many turns as you can because it will save your life.”
I lift my weary head and I fix my gaze on yours.
“But when you're staring down the barrel of a gun what instinct do you have left? You're too scared to make a move. When you're looking death in the face you can't blink for a second because you don't want to miss a second of what you have left.”
I look back at her and see her smile.
I see what my survival instinct is fighting for.
Was fighting for.
The sun shines through the window behind me for just a second but it's enough to make me squint as it reflects off her photo; off her endless smile frozen in time.
The smile that is now buried deep in the ground. Colder than it has ever been and getting more so by every second that I acknowledge it.
“As long as you don't come face to face with your gunman then you'll survive.”
She looked hers right in the eye, now I'm looking into mine.
“Live everyday as though you're being shot at because at the end of it, we're always in the scope just trying to avoid the end.”
Who knew she would be my survival instinct and my gunman.
I look back at you for a moment and nod.
“The day she killed herself was the day she killed me”
I look back at my wedding photo; into her eyes.
I lift the barrel to my head and with no second thoughts and no remorse...
I squeeze the trigger.
And the viewers stare into the socket once hollowed by lack of sleep but now hollowed by a smoking bullet.
And with this i give you your personal survival instinct.
Gosh when I read this I could tell I am definitely going to be a fan of your writing!! Really great piece!
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