[Writing] A random output of words

[EvilM00s]

     It's not that he was unremarkable, he just wasn't remarkable. He'd always thought of himself as pretty average, something that had not caused him any sorrow as he stayed comfortably beige in a world of swirling, coruscating color. He had been perfectly content to stand back and watch the soap opera that was everyone else in the world for many, many years; his whole life had been like someone watching television at night, trying to unwind from the day. His routine was set in the compulsive stone of a man bred and fed on predictability and he liked it that way. He had, as it is said, grown where he was planted. It was comforting, it was safe.

It was about to change.

He'd been alone his entire adult life, and the solitude only confirmed his belief that relationships should be uncomplicated if present at all. Sure, he had friends, and had even ventured so far as to date a woman here and there. He had a good job where he was thought of as pleasant by his coworkers. Everyone and everything was kept carefully at arm's length. And now, today, the very moment we are in this instant, he came to understand that it had all been a waste of several good years.

With the words that came from the lips of the man in the office, the bubble he had been living in for the past three decades popped. The person had  said something, and he replied flatly, "No, sir no need for anything additional. Thank you for your time, sir."

He went home by the usual route, all the while asking himsel what his whole pointless, blunted existance had been for, and why didn't he LIVE while he'd had the chance, oh my god WHY was it over so soon there's so much I want to do I haven't even had children or been married...

..and in some calm, structured part of his brain, probably cultivated by a lifetime of practice, he shut out the maelstrom of distractions that clouded his purpose. It was time for action, and act he must. He pulled into his driveway- again guided by his automatic, practiced behavioral machinery that had taken hi to this point- and went inside. His thoughts raced with the life altering ramifications of what had just appened, and decided that for once, HE would be the active force in his life.

The part of his brain that panicked was finally growing silent. He fell to his knees as the voices finally stopped yelling at him, as they quit running frantically about his skull like a flock of spooked cattle and as his face hit the floor he actually chuckled at his last thought, that a bullet did in a fraction of a second what western medicine could not.

[Acolyte]

I thought it was very well written, but I'm a little confused. What happened that made him want to kill himself? I'm thinking he was diagnosed with something, but I don't get why he would express an interest to experience life more, and then kill himself.

[EvilM00s]

Hey, thanks!

That's the dismal irony, that he finally realised how much he was going to miss out on, and instead of grabbing what remained of his life by the horns, he preferred to stop all that by ending himself. It's not the terminal diagnosis that was the problem, it was his own mediocrity that was the "killing blow", if you will.