No Surprises - Page 6

On May 10 2012 23:24 OpticalShot wrote:
WARNING
This post turned out wayyy too dramatic, apologies if anyone finds it depressing. T_T;;

+edit: this is about a friend. CHEF WHAT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A GIRL BLOG?

I first met him more than a decade ago, when he had this crazy idea of becoming famous and being accepted as mainstream culture. I laughed; what a ridiculous fellow! He was quite the exact definition of a friend that every parent would pull their kids away from! Nevertheless, he was clearly talented and passionate. Beyond the negative rumours about addiction and others, I saw strategic brilliance and mechanical perfection that I didn't find in any other friend. Despite the opposition from my parents, we soon became inseparable buddies. I would spend many days and evenings with him, sharing tales of epic victories and heartbreaking losses.

Much to my surprise and delight, he achieved what he set out to become - a part of mainstream culture. Thousands joined us in celebrating the culmination of talent, creativity, and passion. He even got corporate sponsors, and a cable channel dedicated to broadcasting his ever-evolving spectrum of entertainment. He was always generous - in the hundreds and maybe thousands of hours spent together, he wouldn't take a penny from me.

Perhaps it was all too good to be true. Maybe I put too much trust in him, unconditionally. I wasn't the only one, thousands of others trusted him the same way. Some could argue that he was too careless in his own glorious life, that he wasn't ready to protect himself against the malicious forces in the world. Did a wise man say that all good things must come to an end? Isn't that really obvious, as all mortals are destined to meet an end, one way or another? Well then, how did we get caught in the illusion that our friend would defy the flow of time and live in eternal glory?

One day, he was stabbed viciously by one of the very prodigies he raised himself. We don't know who to blame, really - the prodigy helped raise the popularity of the scene, and revolutionized many aspects that would further help our friend reach new heights. There was widespread disbelief, as we learned that the prodigy was one of the leaders in the shadow movement that critically wounded our friend. With the help of good friends, he was immediately hospitalized and given the best treatment possible - but the poisons didn't leave his body. The bruises didn't fade, and the wounds didn't fully heal. He was visibly battered, his flair was reduced, and his confidence never recovered. Knowing of the evil forces that wanted his head, sponsors saw too much risk and left him, and hundreds of friends did the same. I didn't, because I believed he would overcome all obstacles, just like he did in the past.

It turns out that he had a young brother. I first welcomed the news, expecting him to be the rightful heir of the scene that his older brother cultivated. I think I speak for the entire community when I say that he was expected to follow the greatness of his older brother, and take it to another level. Turns out I was wrong. His younger brother, eager to take the throne before proving himself worthy, took a gavel and delivered a smashing blow to the head of my dear friend. I thought that would be the end.

My friend proved me wrong. He was old, and nowhere as strong and vibrant as he was in his youth, but he held on like a champion. He was a fallen champion perhaps, an ageing war hero slowly dying from his battle wounds. He hung on for another year before he was deemed too fragile to continue on his own.

So we decided to put him on life support with the help of his younger brother. We would prolong his crumbling life, just for a little bit, so that at least his younger brother can have a better start when he fully inherits the throne. Many opposed this idea, preferring to see our friend meet a heroic end rather than a pathetic decline into oblivion.

Perhaps he is already dead, in practical terms. His younger brother will lead the very same scene with different styles and features. He may as well be dead, really - it pains me to see faint glimpses of his prime years in the last moments of his life.

But I will watch him. I will watch him until his eyes shut for the last time. I will follow him to the last stroke of his movement. I will catch his breath until his last breath. And when he does finally breathe his last - I will be here, along with thousands of his loyal friends, in celebrating his achievements and immortalizing his legacy. We will celebrate, because he achieved things that people thought was utterly impossible.

It's just a game, they said. In fact, they say the same now. It's just a game. Yes, it's just a game - that touched the lives of many. It's just a game that made people laugh, cry, and jump out of their seats with genuine emotions.

I hold his fragile hands.

"It's almost over. Thanks for everything, buddy."

- "If I ever made you smile, then you owe me nothing. Nobody owes me anything. I am happy, and I'm glad that I met you, and all the others around the world."

"I've got to go... and I'm not sure if I'll see you again."

He doesn't reply. He doesn't wave goodbye either. His hands quietly slip away from mine, and he rests them peacefully on top of his chest. A deep breath, and a faint smile. I naturally jerk at the monitor to check his pulse, and it seems fine. Whew... maybe he just needed some rest. Seeing that it's probably time for me to go, I grab my coat and head for the door. His younger brother, at his bedside, seems to understand something that I don't. He gets up, shakes my hand, thanks me for being here, and goes back to the stool beside the bed. Perhaps I've misjudged, or perhaps he's changed... but maybe he's not such a bad guy, after all.

I take one last look before closing the door behind me. Brothers: an aged hero barely living the last minutes of his celebrated life, and a young champion, blessed and doomed to follow the great footsteps of his elder.

For some reason, I find it... assuring.