The Functional Life of John Smith


Same Sunday morning. Same routine. Sitting listlessly on the same park bench in the same park. Just staring out into space without focusing on anything around him. Not a glimpse here nor there to the hustle and bustle of the families. Maybe it was different when she was still alive. But now … it was a completely different story. The sky was always the same regardless of whether it was a sparkling clear blue or stormy grey. That didn’t matter to him. It didn’t come into his scope of notice. Hardly anything did really. Emotions left him when she died. He stopped believing in the need for human interaction other than that which was purely functional. Those he needed to interact with professionally. Those he needed to interact with in order to buy stuff. The stuff he bought was purely functional. Food and groceries. Primarily his life had simply become something that he just needs to minimally complete. Without anything extra. Without actually living it. But it wasn’t really a deliberate or a conscious decision on his part to become this way. Circumstances had changed him into this. When she died or rather ever since she died he kept struggling to make his mind move beyond why anything that had happened did happen. Half his mind was utilized in completing the mundane formalities of the functional aspects of living. The other half remained pre-occupied with the puzzle of that day when she died… all that he found out. It was hard enough for him to see her die in an accident in front of him. More harder for him to find out that she was going to leave him two days after accepting his proposal.. which he had planned out so perfectly that it was probably a page out of her diary. Then why? Why was she going to leave him? What was the reason? Questions that he will never really get the answers to. And it doesn’t seem any closer to a point where he might finally wake up from this robotic daze and start living again. To see that there is life still around him and in him. That he has much to do. That his questions must wait for now. It’s been 2 years already. And for 2 years … its been the same routine. The same park where he proposed to her. The same park she said yes to him. The same park she asked him to meet her two days later. Where then all that she said to him was that she can’t do this. That it’s over. And there were no emotions on her face. Not a single one as she delivered this deafening of blows – the non physical kind but they hurt as well. And the next thing he knew… she gets hit by a DUI as she turns to walk away. And there…. ends any hope for an explanation… or a reason. The hope for any sort of answers.

Why? He would just ask himself. After they had been together for so long. Why? After all they had been through. What happened? What went wrong? It didn’t make any sense and there wasn’t any way left for him to attempt to do so. Well not any sane way. So his mind therefore drifted into this two piece show of functionality and repeat, rewind and replay the last 14 years of his life. From high school sweetheart to moving to the same city to living together and then finally being able to get married. Finally being able to get everything that they wanted.

P.S. This is purely the product of a state of not being able to sleep and wanting to write something purely fictional. Period Smile

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Author: Sammy Wiseguy

Marketer, blogger, reader, Arsenal fan, frequently emotionally wounded cricket fan

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