Entry for Constrained Writing Contest 17: James' Trip

James wasn’t a very good father. Now, in his early fifties he feels as though he’s missed the memo on how to be good at life. James is short, bald, and whenever he looks at himself in the mirror he is reminded of his ex-wife’s third trimester with his daughter. Light beer hadn’t really done the trick. He hasn’t seen or talked to his daughter in over a year, and the last time they talked, he couldn't help but feel disconnected, like trying to make conversation with someone at a highschool reunion who didn’t do anything interesting with their life. A dead link. Error 404. James wasn’t going to really try to rekindle anything, and now a year later, it seems like she feels the same indifference towards him.

James had thought about suicide before, but he felt a little weirded out by people touching his body after he was dead and gone. The death part wasn’t the problem, James had been comfortable with it since his own parents passed away. It was more of an uneasiness of having unfamiliar hands on his body. In the last days of his marriage with Karen he was much more gung ho about the idea, especially when he thought of the psychological damage it would do to his dearly beloved. It had been his daughter that really kept James going through the divorce. Now that both of them are out of the picture, maybe it was time to make a plan and learn how to properly and quietly dispose of himself. Disappearances happen all the time, and James was certain no one would notice his extended absence after he quits his job.

That night James looked up all the ways you could off yourself. Some of them sounded fun, while others seemed like a generally bad time. His favorite was one that he found on an internet message board. It involved a backpacking trip, hallucinogens, and no safety precautions. James learned that the best way to go out was to be in harmony with nature. The most wholesome way to get rid of your own existence was to be a use to everything else, and be food for the forest. James was excited, elated even. He had never been particularly useful to anyone in his life, even his own daughter. To end yourself as a means to keep others going seemed like the most poetic way to end his sad life. Best of all, James would be free. Away from prying eyes, foreign fingers, and the look of satisfaction on Karen’s dumb face.