Madness of Regret

I woke up to the squawk from the seagull.

Few of them were pecking me in my chest, gorging on whatever pieces of flesh that could be seen.

I tried to shoo them off but found that none of my arms properly work. The only one functioning arm when moved hurt like a bitch and took forever to shoo away the bird.

Lucky me one or two bastards shit on my chest while flying away.

Yet I can still hear the sound of the seagull bastard squawking. I moved my head to see what they were squawking about. Even my neck muscles got fucked up from the night raft looney toon shit. Let me tell you I would prefer my arms get dislocated than my stiff neck .

And would you look at that. My right arm still attached to my body but not responsive, didn't let go of the dinosaur carcass even in the storm. I am proud of you my non responsive arm. 

Now what do I do of all the seagulls eating my bloody dinner? I shoo them away with my semi- functional arm. It didn't work. 

Looks like I gotta do it the hard way. I crawled like a earthworm towards my dinner. And boy did it hurt. My chest fucked up from that raft jump, my neck muscles haywire, my legs muscles torn and my arm barely functioning. Yet I still crawled. I crawled slowly.

I could see the seagulls staring at me, spreading their wings at me, threatening a fight for food. Did it matter to me? 

No, it didn't. If I let go of this dead dinosaur bastard, I am gonna die of hunger, blood loss, organ failure anyway. If I am gonna die, I am gonna do it with a full stomach.

I brought my semi-functional hand in front of my eyes, gotta protect them in case the seagulls attack my eyes. 

I crawled more and more towards the dinosaur bastard. My face slid through seagull poops. I didn't care. 

Few of the timid seagulls flew away from the carcass while few looked at me like they wanted to challenge me for a death battle. They were screeching, showing their whole wingspan trying to look threatening. It didn't work.

The wave and the storm couldn't kill me. Some birds killing me would be a very bad joke. 

3 seagulls looked ready to fight. A 1 v 3 situation. It seems.

An injured, crippled man against three birds. What a sight for sore eyes.

I moved my hand like a girl would do if she encountered a robber. A little bit of up and down. I didn't aim to scratch the bird but I aimed to catch its wings or leg. 

I was too slow and missed. And a lucky bird jumped towards me and poked me with his beak. I moved my head out of the way and he pecked me right in my collarbone. And bitch it hurt.

It also gave me a chance to catch the little bastard as it started to gawn on my flesh. I caught it by the neck. It screamed tried to fly away, attack me. 

It missed. But judging from my hurt hand, I couldn't keep it for long. I looked at the carcass. This time only one seagull stood there. Others were flying above my head. 

Waiting for me to drop dead or steal food from me.

Looks like the screeching seagull kept most of the seagulls at bay. I looked at the screech'er and a risky idea came to my head. 

I held him high. I almost let him go several of times cause of how my hands seemed unresponsive. But I held him high and them bam! I let gravity do the rest as my hand fell down with the seagull who hit the raft.

It wasn't dead but it started screaming even loudly. Even I couldn't take it. But it did make the other seagulls fly away even further from me.

No one was near the carcass. Except that it was covered in bird poop.

Almost two days or more of hunger. And my food covered with bird poop. 

I crawled towards it. Even if it was rotten, I would still eat it. I can't die. Not now.

I chomped the flesh. My neck hurt. Fuck even chewing hurts like bitch. The taste of the flesh was something I didn't want to taste in the future. It tasted weird. Stale yet slippery.

I canceled any other thought I could have. Now I have to eat my fill even if the fill is full of rotten stale flesh and bird poop. 

Bite the flesh, Chew it into smaller pieces and Swallow it. 

Ignore the pain from the neck. Swallow the goddamn flesh. 

My life looks like quite a sight.

The meat's gone bad. My neck can't even handle me moving my jaw to chew nor swallow. My right hand is dislocated and unresponsive. My left hand is semi- responsive and full of muscle tear. Both legs have muscle tear and the left leg of which I am pretty sure it is dislocated for the love of mother nature. My chest has some wounds and bones protruding out. I am royally fucked. Yea, My life looks pretty bad from my eyes.

But hey there is always a bright side. I am in the middle of ocean in a raft drifting like I am a viking going to pillage and rape. Now I just need to find some homies who will go abroad with me. I got some pretty sunshine. Some great empty views. And I am all alone with my thoughts.

Yea, what a beautiful bright side to the current me. All alone in peace with only my thoughts.

All alone with my thoughts. What a scary notion.

Hah! I would rather go and fight more dinosaur bastard underwater than be all alone with my thoughts. Would do me much good if I didn't stay all alone with my thought. 

Yet, what can I do? I have already ate what I can. Chewed through bones, flesh and poop even with my fucked up neck. I can neither move without my bones dislocating even more nor can I do anything about it. I am pretty sure I bleed so much and for so long that even the wound have begun to clot or swell. 

Pretty sure, I shouldn't be able to reach the dinosaur bastard carcass if not for some divine intervention or some shit blessings. I shouldn't have even survived the dinosaur bastard underwater fight even if I did I should have died because of blood loss. 

Luck or something foreign? Foreign? System?

It's still there in the upper corner of my eye. Thinking of it, the novice mission, the summary and the warnings all came in front of my eye. But still there was no change. Everything remained the same. 

The silver words had no change as far as my memories can tell. Did the system help me? Or did I survive cause of luck? A coincidence? I have a feeling the answer would only be given to me later and it won't be from the system.

I preformed some mental activities with the system. It stayed the same. A minimize mode to keep it in my eye upper side and a maximize mode to cover my whole eye. I couldn't read anything from the minimize mode it just stayed as a transparent spot in my eye. Feels weird. 

So no clue to why I survived. 

Even if there was a clue to my survival, would It mean anything seeing that I am not only cripple but battered with both surface and in-depth injuries. I can feel even my lungs touching some bones when I breathe. 

Some voodoo or black magic would be very much appreciated if it means I can walk again and be normal. Yea, a fat chance someone would do that for me, a cripple. 

Like they would do that for me even if I was normal. I would be a 1 in the 99 of 100 not the 1 in the 1 of 100. I would be too common, too ordinary, too average, too standard, too typical. 

For all I know, I wouldn't pick myself from the crowd. 

Special. One of a kind. Unique. 

I always felt I was them. No, they were me. I was unique. I was one of a kind. I was special. 

I scored in the top of my class. My parents, teachers were happy at my result. My friends would ask me to tutor them. I had a smile. A smile that was true. I felt the world revolved around me. It was unique. It was thrilling. Then, I grew up.

My grades declined but I still kept my top spot. My parents started to get busy with their works. My friends started making more friends. I still had a smile. A smile that was half true. I was uncommon. Then, I grew up even more.

My grades dropped rock bottom. I failed several subjects. My parents left me to my own means. My friends, I started to distance myself from the very small friend group I had. I started to work. I didn't have a smile. All my lips moving up conveyed was a smirk that I bested my co-worker for the promotion and relief that I payed my bills. I became common. 

I became average, standard, generic. No special points, just a man living in the shadow of his past, his childhood. A part of the 99.

How I wish I still had a smile that was true. How I wish I was what my parents, my teachers, my friends, my society and the world made me believe I was that I was unique was true.

Now I am just a generic guy struggling in his day to day job with nothing new in his life. I am a few years or few incidents away from being the depressed everyday workers found wandering during the rush hour. 

I checked every boxes of being a generic guy that I know of and can think of. Being depressed or on the way to be depressed. Checked. Suicidal thoughts. Everyday. Not satisfied with life. Checked. Tried to change but responsibilities won't let you. Yes. Happy cause of few percentage increase. Checked. No stories to tell yourself when you get old. Checked. Searching for a 90s love in today's time. Checked. Can't fit and have to adjust with life. Checked. No friend. No bitches. Checked. Checked. Happy? No. 

A common but a sad life.

I remember everyone saying 'You can aim for the stars' and when I grew up, life made the stars a bag with a laptop and files. The sky looked so large, large enough to fit all the stars. I wanted to grab the stars. I wanted to pluck it with my bare hands. I wanted to do stuff that I wished I could do. 

Now that I grew up. The stars I wanted to grab became that one high paying job I needed. The stars I wanted to pluck became the cash that came out of the ATM machine. The stuff I wished I could do became the only aspirations, a bucket list to keep me going. A false hope for life but hope nonetheless.

Every movie I saw, Every novel I read, Every comics I read, Every characters I saw, I imagined walking in their shoes. Their struggles I walked in it too. Their happiness I tried walking in it but the happiness I felt was different. Artificial. Impure. 

Yet, I wanted to be them. Live like them. To be a story. To be a main character. To be alive. 

I always imagined myself as a important character, a main character. Reality told me I am not. 

I was common. I was not unique. 

I was a adult living in the past. A kid acting like a adult. 

A kid with the aspiration to go on a adventure. 

A common man's dream to complete his inner child dream.

Maybe that's why I didn't die. Maybe that's why I didn't want to die.

I wanted to live my inner child dream. I wanted to say 'Yes, we did' to him when we met. I wanted him to be better than me. I wanted him to be free from my life and my worries. I wanted him to be different. I wanted him to be proud. I wanted him to be unique. I wanted him to be a main character in his life.

I want him to be proud of me.

In the 21st century, I would have issues doing that. 

But in this new world, I got the chance and now I wish to make it count despite my suicidal thoughts.

I wanted to make my inner child smile once again. I wished to be the unique man he desired to be. 

I long to become the fire that the ember within me always yearned to be.