The Holy Lifeline

Malcolm staggered into his room in a daze. He hadn’t slept in 23 hours. He hadn’t felt like it. So engrossing was the video content he had found online, that he wished he were a machine, with the ability to process information through electric supply.

His eyes were hurting, due to the 23 hour binge. So much that, it was emanating warm tears by now, and still he couldn’t get enough of the hazy blue light emitted by his laptop screen. He wanted to continue the binge, but only due to one tiny neuron in his brain, present in the very corner recesses did he realise, he had better wind up, else he would be surely dead. What a stupid way to die this would be.

He wondered what would the cause of death be registered as, by the police. Death by accident? Death by suicide? Death by negligence? Death by brain haemorrhage? Malcolm had no idea what brain haemorrhage was, but at this point of time, he thought it was surely blockage of the blood vessels inside his brain by lack of sleep, caused by the internet of course.

Malcolm laughed out loud, without any control or feelings, straight from his cold heart. His body was icy cold, he was shivering. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, while he laughed even further. He realised he was high, in a very fucked up way. He decided he wanted a better high, a good kind of high, only then would he sleep soundly, in peace. Doing so, he would sleep for a whole day, a full 24 hours to compensate the binge, and re-enter the real world completely fresh.

His eyes steered his body towards the herb, already crushed and filled in the equipment. 23 seconds later, he was dead to the world, in a good way, the evil washed out through the holy fumes of the blessed herb.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s