Further Doubts

I find that I have difficulty in writing sound, for the onomatopoeia at my disposal seems limited and fails to adequately produce the specific sounds I want to be heard. Or am I just a bad writer; one with a stunted vocabulary? My self-destructiveness rears its hydra heads again.

“Overcome it,” I grumble mentally, “no more wallowing in self-pity. Honestly, haven’t you gotten over such predilection?”

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No. I never did, nor will I ever. There are just too many triggers that can set me off into an Ouroboros of doubt and paranoia. Too many. Really, too many, and I, prone to severe weaknesses in character, have none who are willing to lend their shoulder to mope upon. None of these creatures are responsive to my pleas for ‘companionship,’ and they are wholly apathetic towards my deteriorating mental state. They don’t even see me… but I wonder: would they have before? How much, really, has the world changed since its death? Is that attributing too much importance to humanity? I mean, the world is still here. Yet, the debate over the consciousness and self-awareness of animals still seems to left unsolved, just like these abominations of nature. Perhaps the world truly is dead, for its sole conduit to existence is… well… not entirely alive.

But what of that boy? If he is dead then… but surely these two can’t be the only breathing humans left, that is to say after what has just transpired, singular breathing human left. Should I do something about that? Where was I?

Oh, yes, the guttural utterances that I had heard; how to ascribe an appropriate onomatopoeia to them? Strangely, both an intake an exhale of breath happening simultaneously, but that breath one makes after having been choked to near death; that gasping-for-life breath—choking and spluttering on saliva.

I looked up from the diary. The library man convulsed about in disgusting jerks and twists, then lifted his head from the pavement, then he awkwardly lifted himself up into a sitting position. His jaw hung ajar and his eyes stared vacantly out at the world. Did it actually see anything? Was it thinking? It then lifted itself to its feet and stood there with the same expressionless look on its face. He is still dead…

He stood up rather effortlessly.