Prelude to Life
Stories without sacrifice are no good at all, right? It's true. Think of all the brainless dead sitcoms and reality TV shows infesting the airwaves. Y'don't feel for any of the bastards, 'cause they don't got to sacrifice anything. Stories that don't have sacrifice don't have emotion, and stories that don't have emotion are stupid and a huge fucking waste of time.
My sacrifice was big. My emotion was big. And so my story is big.
Big in the sense that it spanned the gaps between Earth and Hell. Big in the sense that it made my emotions roar and rage and race from happiness to sadness to anger and everything in the in between. Big in the sense that it was able to reconnect two people thought to be separated forever by the finality of death.
Like I would know about the finality of death, right? That's probably what you think.
I have a lot of time to think here and every single time I think about what happened and what I did I always come to the same conclusion. That it was the right thing to do.
I saved him, and, what's more, I saved them.
I was the hero of the story. Now the story's moved on to someone else: well, to two other people, I guess. But the story before that, the one that set the stage to their happiness-that was all me.
Don't tell me that in the end I had to sacrifice my happiness, because I am happy. Just because I gave something trivial up to get them to have their happiness doesn't mean I lost my own. I'm happy that my life, that my worthless, cyclical life could come to some sort of fruition. I'm happy because the two boys who couldn't live without each other now don't have to. I'm happy because I can imagine them living their lives together for a long, long time without worry of it being cut short by some Russian Roulette of fate.
I'm happy because this is a story about Life, and Life isn't about Death.