Jack sat, once again, for the hundredth time in his life in his car smoking a spliff. The embers crackled as it burned, inhaling deeply the tingles filled his body. He relaxed back into his seat, rubbing his coarse hands all around the soft, fresh smelling leather. The radio was off, and the only sound was the soft wind rushing past the side of the car. It had been a beautiful day, and now the orange sun melted into the distant deep blue ocean. Ripples of waves spread across the blue, distorting the way the cloudless sky sunk into the horizon where the faint curve of the planet stretched across. Dew covered, tall, green grass sprouted from the muddy earth below him, and the distant noise of a late night binge echoed out from the pub.
Jack closed his eyes, taking a drag. The car was parked three foot from the sheer cliff drop. The car would plummet down 500 ft of chalk cliff, until it would reach the jagged end at the pointed rocks below. The fall would cause the car to crumple, the seatbeltless Jack would soar through the windscreen to meet the solid ground below. His head would likely hit first, and his skull would shatter. His neck would snap, and his skull would crush. He imagined it. The intense pain, only for a minute second. Then it would be darkness embracing him. He had not once thought to himself what would be there waiting, after. Perhaps he should now, he thought to himself.
His mind then turned to it. Could there really be nothing? Would this be it, forever? He prayed the answer to both questions to be yes, for it to just end. His consciousness ceasing to exist, his life complete. People spoke of not wanting to reach old age, filled with regrets. Jack had reached his final moments, and all he had was regrets. The millions of pounds, the charity work, the lives he’d saved through hospitals and schools. He regretted it all. He wished he was still that 10 year old kid, sitting in his bedroom writing shitty pop music next to Billy, strumming on his old 10 year old guitar. No tears came, not this time. Now was not the time for crying. What would be the point in that? Human’s cry in desperation, when there in need of help. No, Jack was not in need of help. It was past that stage, past any stage of being able to turn back. No, this was it. Jack knew it. He could feel it. If there was something, it was telling him right now was his time to die. And he wasn’t going to turn down his fate, he wasn’t going to turn down his destiny.
He reached into the glove compartment and took out a page from his notebook and began to write:
"Dear All,
This letter is to my family. My family includes everyone I was ever close to, because increasingly I have begun to believe in the need for fate and destiny in our lives, and I believe in some kind of soul. So I think that all who’s hearts I have touched, and all those who have touched mine, this letter is for you.
Recently, I have not been able to reach the same high’s as I used to. I have not been able to feel the euphoria I used to get, the adrenaline, when performing music. Instead, this euphoria and high have been increasingly coming through the use of narcotics, as a way of covering up the high that I have lost. I am sorry for this. To everyone. Aside from the drug dealers, who are probably now a few hundred thousand better off, ha ha ha. But seriously, I understand I have broken a few hearts because of this, and this was wrong for me to do so. I hope it has not adversely affected your enjoyment of the band’s music, which I still believe has been stellar til the very end. Not because I write the songs, partly but not entirely, but also because of the band who I truly love, no matter what I have done, it has been through love.
I will not sit here and mope around, as that was not the human being that I was. I wanted to live, and to fly, and I have done that. And now I can only encourage you guy’s to do the same. Live fast, die you may not be the best advice, but if your life is already planned out for you and your all set for getting a three bedroom house, a few kids and a nice holiday in Spain – then I think life fast die young would be a much preferable option. Do whatever the fuck you wanna do, don’t follow rules, don't even bother breaking them, how cliché, just ignore there excistance and that of those who fight against them. You’re your own human being, so fuck it, go crazy.
Love from Jack,"
As he finished the K, he placed the letter inside his breast pocket. Tapping it twice, he twisted the ignition of the car. He took a few last drags, til he reached the roach, and chucked it out of the window. He took a deep breath of oxygen up his nose, and pressed down on the accelerator.
The End
