If I told you this were a dream, would any of this matter? If I said it were all in my head, then maybe you wouldn’t feel disappointed when you realize none of this is real. Yet it felt really real. To me. This is for me. All for me, none for you. The ravine was dark. The ravine was wet. From the floor up, it was a nightmare. Eyes like blood glared down at me. It’s a moody opening, but I think life’s moody at times. And maybe you’re wondering well why did you begin so moody? I was born moody, boom. So you find me lying down in a moody ravine. It’s raining as well. Why? Because it’s raining outside right now.
And maybe seasonal depression is for real. But we all find ourselves in dark places, in dark times, sometimes. Why are you down here away from everyone else? Because I’m lonely. A dark ravine drenched in rainfall is how I feel! And you might be thinking, fuck this guy, he doesn’t know what I’m thinking. Or you might be thinking, this guy overthinks a lot. Both are true.
You ever catch yourself before the fall? Midst fall? I’m better at catching myself now. A car’s going to hit me. That person will be a total dick. I might swerve and fly off the freeway. Wait a minute. Why the fuck was I thinking about all this stuff anyways? I’m driving to get a donut. But I’m not. I’m in that ravine, remember? Oh yeah there’s a cannibal who wants my tenderloin. I’ve named him Oog because he makes an oog noise when he stalks me. I’m not good with names.
There’s always room for questions. Why a cannibal? Why a ravine? Why me? Well I don’t really know, and truthfully I’m pulling things from my immediate imagination. Or my ass. Because that’s what dreams are. No one ever goes wait a minute I’m in a dream; this is stupid.
Oog is my friend. Well he feels like my friend. As much of a friend as one who tries to kill you. And maybe those are your best friends. Because they love you. And when you love someone, you hate them. Secretly. Or openly. Oog has stalked me for the last few days. I can hear his stomach gurgle. He’s not a good hunter. But I’m not a good human. Perhaps we were destined to follow one another. Go away, Oog. You won’t get to taste my tenderloin tonight. And if you do, I’m taking at least one of your eyeballs. Will it be worth it? Your eye for my tenderloin? I cover myself in sodden leaves and silence my breathing like how I silence my phone at AMC.
Petrified is a word. But I’m not petrified. I’m kind of just existing at the moment. There’s been a lot of back pedaling. But you know what? Life’s all about back pedaling. One moment you think you’re on a path. The next, a giant gorilla named Life has obstructed your path with menacing banana the size of a truck, which he has christened Optimus. And what does Life and Optimus want to do with you. They want to fuck you in the ass. Because Life will fuck you in the ass one way or another. And you might be thinking oh no not me. I’ll never take it up the ass because I’m this or that. Wrong! You might even live a silver spoon life, and I guarantee you’ll still feel like shit at some point in life. So Life and Optimus are leering at you. What do you do?
You back pedal the fuck away. And maybe that’s how I came to be in this ravine. Because I back pedaled off a cliff, and as I came hurling down the mountain I thought of Squidward when he wouldn’t jellyfish with Patrick and Spongebob. There’s probably someone out there in this world who does deep analysis of Spongebob episodes. And that person is me. If only Squidward partook in their merriment, he wouldn’t have to explode. Anyways you want to hear about Oog and my tenderloin.
Oog is a vicious motherfucker. Sure he’s stupid. And sure he lets his stomach gurgle when he’s near prey. But he’s hungry. Give him a break. Since I fell down the mountain, I found myself waddling through the ravine. My leg’s fucked up as in I’m limping with my snapped leg, dragging my exposed femur among decayed, crunchy leaves. A trail of blood and tears. And what do I stumble upon? Dismembered bodies. Limbs and limbs strewn with flies. Skulls crushed between Oog’s powerful hands. There are bodies that still have features of a person. This one was a fat man who never had a chance. This one was a little girl who also never had a chance. This one was a beautiful woman who died right away from falling off the cliff. And why didn’t Oog eat the rest of the bodies especially if he were seriously hungry? Because the tenderloin is like the center of a cinnamon roll, the most delicious part that makes you moan in ecstasy when you take that first bite. Oog is all about that first bite.
I, of all people, have a chance. Why? Because I can’t tell myself I don’t have a chance. Oh sure I don’t believe it. Oh sure, I’ve cried. Oh sure I’ve erupted in anger. But you can’t tell yourself you don’t have a chance because then you end up like that fatman. Or the little girl. And sometimes you simply don’t have a chance like that beautiful woman, whom I’ve named Charlotte. But if you’re struggling, barely getting by, you might as well say you have a chance. I have a chance to escape this ravine. I’m going to drag my limp, broken leg up the cliff and defeat the gorilla and Optimus.
So I’m going back to the cliff. And Oog knows this. He’s been following me. He’s a sadist. He knows I’ll fail. And when I come hurling down the mountain the second time, with my other femur snapped, he’ll be waiting for me.
It’s day 5. I’ve army-crawled my way to the cliff. The rocks are cool to the touch, but when I wrap my hands onto them, they scrap my flesh. Ribbons of blood begin to pour down my arms. Sometimes you have to bear a smaller pain to avoid a greater pain. I don’t want to be eaten by the cannibal. There’s a basic instinct for survival even though I don’t have much to live for. Up, up and away. One hand over the other. My dangling leg is dead weight. I won’t deny I had the urge to lop it off and throw it at Oog. Here, motherfucker. You’re not getting my tenderloin. You can have this decayed piece of me, instead. Isn’t that the biggest fuck you? You give someone something they didn’t want, just dangling the best of yourself in front of their bloodshot eyes.
My hands are slippery with blood. Don’t look down. Don’t look back. Don’t look down. My leg slips, and I almost want to give up. You know dying is always an option. There’s no greater act of agency in this life than taking your own life. I mean, nothing matters after that. Really. Nothing matters. My arms are burning. I imagine lactic acid is the same as battery acid. My femur slams against the rocks. Pain travels up nerves. I can’t take it anymore. I’m not strong. I’m not strong. A bliss fills me head. Let go. Just let go. The fall will kill you. I stare down. The fall will certainly not kill me. I’m only 5 ft high up the fucking cliff side.
What do you do when you’re devoid of any motivation, when you’re robbed of all energy, and you simply want to go to sleep? Eternal sleep, only to wake up and say FUCK I’m still alive. Let go. I let go. The fall is slow. The impact hurts. And Oog is already on me, gnawing at my flesh. I scream in agony. He wraps his Neanderthal hands around my temples. I’ve felt this pain before. I’ve had a migraine before. This is just a migraine x10. I’ve had this thought before –that if humanity returned to some sort of animalistic hierarchy, I wouldn’t survive. I’m like a fucking chicken when all goes to shit and the lions come. A calm sweeps over me. Go ahead. I’m done. He digs into my chest cavity with his hands. I’m already dead. Thump Thump Thump. My poor heart is exposed, pumping with the last bit of vitality. He rips it out and ingest it raw. My face has been crushed and I’m left in that ravine with those who never had a chance. And the last thing I see? His fervor. His hunger.