You are currently viewing God’s Will

God’s Will

  • Post author:

Scrambling through the woods, I search for the perfect place. I didn’t want to be found, at least not right away. The underbrush was low for summertime, and I found myself surrounded by the tranquility of nature, just as I desired. You see, I never truly wanted to do it, but life had become unbearable. The steel handle from my grandfather’s gun grew hot in the summer heat, forcing a quick decision.

The perfect spot caught my eye from a distance. It was a tree stump, no more than a foot off the ground, covered with moss on one side. Half of it was shaded by the canopy of the trees, while the other half shone brightly in the sun. It reminded me of a childhood book about a tree that gave every piece of himself to the boy, yet received nothing in return, ultimately left as a mere stump. It was a poignant reflection of the situation at hand. There was no method to this madness, just a worn-down spirit ready to let go.

Taking a seat on the stump, I couldn’t shake off the nervousness, fearing that someone might emerge from the woods to intervene. Yet, as I reflect on the years of my life, I realize there are no saviors to be found.

Examining my weapon, I begin to turn it in my palm, tracing the serial numbers and details that went into crafting such a fine liberator. My hand starts to sweat, and doubts creep in. Is this truly the right course of action? Who am I to end my own life when people fight for survival every day? But then, I think of the debt, the countless rejections when I desperately needed a job. This is the only way out. But what about Sarah? I wonder, how will she react? Perhaps she’s enjoying a day at the beach with her new boyfriend, indulging in luxuries I could never provide.

Raising the gun ever so gently, I stare down the barrel, where darkness envelops the chamber, obscuring its depths. I’ve always found beauty in the unknown, believing that walking into darkness holds the promise of eventual light—a better life on the horizon. But now, I feel consumed by a perpetual storm of sorrow, relentlessly pursuing me at every turn. It wasn’t always this way. Once, like everyone else fresh out of college, I harbored grand dreams and boundless optimism. I was hopeful, ambitious. Most people, after a few years, settle into a comfortable routine—jobs, marriage, the whole package. But I couldn’t resign myself to that fate. I aspired for greatness. Yet, greatness eluded me, and I could never embrace poverty. This, it seemed, was the only solution.

I slowly remove the sleek black magazine on the gun and popped the only bullet into my hand. I roll it between my thumb and index finger, feeling its weight and smooth surface. Upon examining the casing, I notice the slight discoloration from years of being loaded. The sun casts a small reflection of my face, prompting a haunting question: is this the last time I’ll see it? A quick pause gives rise to doubt. Where will I go from here? With no apartment and a paltry $12.13 to my name, the prospect of a life alone and penniless seems unbearable.

So, I reload the bullet, slide the magazine into the gun, and cock it ever so slowly. I grit my teeth when the gun spring shoots forward to let me know it’s ready for duty. The 1911 is raised halfway towards my mouth when I start thinking about my mother. She always told me I would be special. Optimism was her forte, and she instilled it in all her children as we grew up. I still vividly recall my college graduation, her hand resting warmly on my shoulder, and her words echoing in my mind: ‘Marcus, this world isn’t ready for you.’ In that moment, I felt as though the world lay at my feet, waiting for me to conquer it.

Slowly lowering the gun, the thought of that moment causes me to pause. Yet, there is no turning back from what lies ahead. Anger consumes me as I contemplate how such a positive statement could become a curse. It seems the world is armed with a giant stick, ready to beat me down at every twist and turn of this wretched life. First, the allure of drugs became irresistible—I couldn’t refuse, needing to numb the pain of constant struggle. Then came the relentless stream of rejections from employers, favoring nepotism over merit, denying me opportunities I was more than qualified for. The sheer thought of this drives the gun all the way into my mouth.

I take one final gaze around before I’m finally free, when suddenly, I spot a rabbit about three feet away. It’s nibbling on something, but I can’t discern what’s in its mouth. Then, it hits me: this rabbit, a prey animal, is constantly fighting to survive at the bottom of the food chain. Every day could be its last, yet it still ventures out to hunt for food. Maybe this isn’t the answer to my problems. Lowering my weapon, I begin to hyperventilate. ‘Deep breaths, Marcus,’ I tell myself, as I start to reconsider the purpose of this journey.

So, I ask, what’s the plan? Where do we go when we leave? A glance at my cell phone reveals a text from Sarah: ‘Marcus, I’m with Jeff now, and he makes me happier than you ever did.’ It’s a sobering reminder of the rude drunken message I sent her the night before. Instantly, my mood plummets back to that dark, desolate place, and I raise the gun swiftly. I can feel the cold steel of the barrel pressing against my chin as it inches closer to my mouth. Is this God’s will?”

Sweat soaks my palms, my entire body tense with anticipation. I sense my last few breaths nearing as I apply the slightest pressure to the trigger with my index finger. There’s no turning back now. In an instant, a brief flash of my life unfolds before me, no more than a second long. This furthers my disappointment, and the trigger is pulled. CLICK…. The gun jams and doesn’t shoot. I instantly remove the gun from my mouth and fall to the ground. Cold chills grip my body as I begin to vomit. For a few seconds, I lie there, lost in thought. ‘Yes,’ I whisper to myself, ‘this is God’s will.’ Perhaps, I realize, what I truly need is just one more day, one more chance in this world.