You know why I don’t off myself? Why I don’t just put the barrel down my throat and eat a lead lunch? It’d be so easy. I mean, I been hurt; bad. I’ve seen things and been places that’d make a normal person just wanna check out early, thanks for visiting, have a nice trip. My best days are behind me, and they have been for a while. I mean, I wouldn’t even have to do much. Slow down on the throttle a little when the autocannons line up. Boom. Say goodnight. It’s not hard. Hell, living’s harder. But you know why I don’t just sit back and let the reaper take me? Why I make the cloak and the scythe wait one more day?
It’s the little things. I know it sounds dumb, but when the big stuff’s gone, well… That’s all you got left, and man, those things are sweet. I wanna know who’s gonna win the championships next year, and if they’re ever gonna catch Monaghan on The Bounty Hunters. Those things keep me going. Call it curiosity, or adventure, whatever. It’s what keeps me going. The smell of fresh snow in the morning before anyone’s walked on it. The rhythm of a stripper’s hips. Watching a new guy’s face light up when he sees his ‘Mech all lit up and grand for the first time. Knowing that the last sound Diane Haussman ever heard was her baby crying in the other room before I caved her skull in with a toilet seat. The little things. Read the rest of this entry