Nothing Really Matters

A dark figure stood against a well-recognized observatory. In one hand was a tear-stained letter he almost left his family before he snuck out. In the other was a gun.

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality…

The voices in Jojo's head kept taunting him. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't live on like this; his father constantly bothering him about his future, his true passion being kept a secret from those he loved. He just couldn't take it anymore.

Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see…

It was 11:42. May 14. Jojo glanced up at the white dots in the black abyss above him. A crescent moon smiled at him, the white glow shining brightest of all in that night sky. The last crescent moon he would ever see. His eyes returned to the letter. It hadn't been much – it was only half a page long. The length didn't matter either way. He knew what it was, and once his family would get through reading it, they'd know what it was as well. That is, if they ever found it.

He tried to reread the letter, trying to see if it was really worth not leaving it, but his returning tears distorted each word. He tightly shut his eyes and tried to swallow a hard lump in his throat. He shook his head. It was best he kept it. He didn't need anyone worrying about him. He didn't need anyone caring about him. He didn't need anyone.

"I'm just a poor boy,
I need no sympathy…
Because I'm easy come, easy go,
A little high, little low. "

Jojo slowly and nervously approached the cliff's edge. It was a long, rocky way down. He still held the letter, but he didn't want to let it go. The tears tickled his chin as they ran down his face. His breaths were uneasy. His hand shaking, heart pounding against his chest, he pulled the gun up, pressing the barrel to his chest. The voices in his head kept singing, singing…

Anyway the wind blows
Doesn't really matter to meee…

BANG!

To meeeee…

*****
The warm red liquid poured out of Jojo's body. There was a horrible jagged cut stretching from the corner of his right eye to the middle of his forehead, and his left eye had been bruised red. His arms and legs were broken and twisted from the continuous impacts with jutting rocks on the way to the cliff's bottom, and the side of his head split open, staining his disheveled hair. From the top of the cliff, he could've seemed like a giant black and gray ragdoll. But upon closer inspection, he was the mayor's son, turned suicidal from a feeling of rejection.

And still alive.

His eyes were open ever so slightly, looking like black slits in his head. Somehow he was still breathing, but he knew his heart wasn't beating. But he was still breathing. Inches from where he lied, a familiar letter still hadn't blown away. Knowing he had only seconds more to live, he decided to read it one last time.

Father, just killed a man.
Put a gun against his chest.
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead.
Father, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and thrown it all away.

As he continued to read the letter, his eyes widened faintly, and his eyes were wet again.

Father,
I don't mean to make you cry.
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters.

Still holding some strength in his body, he winced, turning his head to the ground. What had he done to himself? He'll never be seen again. He'll never see his family again. No more of his goofy dad, no more of his nurturing mom, no more high-pitched giggles from his younger sisters. He lost it. He lost it all. Most importantly, he wasn't ready. As the air around him seemed to get thicker, as he heard his final painful thoughts, he realized it was over.

Too late, my time has come,
Send shivers down my spine,
Body's aching all the time,
Goodbye everybody, I've got to go.
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.

His eyelids grew heavier, and his body became colder. Feeling the wind blowing through his fur, he began to see a vision of his father, smiling his silly grin.

Father,
I don't wanna die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.

At last, he gave a final sigh, and everything went black.

…And then his eyes reopened. Jojo was warm again. His heart was beating, his lungs were working, his limbs were repaired. He sat up immediately, patting and staring at his chest in disbelief. The room he found himself in was very dark, but he could see himself. The bleeding gash was gone. Trying to comprehend what was going on, he realized the wound on the side of his head disappeared as well, and so did the cut on his forehead and his eye injury.

Blinking a few times, he noticed the room wasn't as dark as he assumed. In fact, he was being illuminated under something, as if he were a test subject. He felt a tingling sensation up his spine. Was someone watching him? He slowly turned around, and what he saw nearly killed him again.

Before him, the seats of the Whoville councilmen were aligned. Each green who stared down at him, but the who in the middle, Chairman VonFrood, gave him the hardest glare. Jojo couldn't help but stare back, slowly retreating. He tripped over something invisible and fell on his rear, only to have the room echo with the council's laughter. Jojo pulled his eyes away from the councilmen, and nearly choked in horror as he read the plaque that was plastered on the giant desk of Chairman VonFrood:

PURGATORY.

The councilmen began to laugh harder at Jojo's astonishment. He stood up and prepared his body to run away, but he felt something restraining him. He glanced down at what held him back. He was chained. Both his wrists and his ankles had been shackled to the floor. Again the councilmen roared in laughter. Jojo turned to them, pleading with his eyes to release him or to explain what was going on. Chairman VonFrood, the most entertained, stood from his seat and pointed to Jojo, shamelessly ridiculing him.

"I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the fandango? "

The room boomed loudly and the floor shook as the rest of the councilmen joined Chairman VonFrood's chant.

"Thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening me!
Galileo, Galileo,
Galileo, Galileo,
Galileo Figaro,
Magnifico!"

Jojo crumpled to his feet, grinding his teeth and covering his ears as the councilmen's voices ricocheted violently against the walls of the room. Eventually the loud voices died out, and he heard another softer voice. He carefully pulled his hands away from his ears, and he recognized the shy sounding voice.

It was his.

He turned to the direction of his disembodied voice, and he met a separate version of himself. This other copy of Jojo, who looked as if he were made from socks, felt and yarn, was on his knees, hands clasped together and frightened watery eyes big as he pleaded the council.

"But I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me…"

Jojo's jaw merely hung. This sock puppet version of himself, somehow it was even more chilling than the Purgatory councilmen. It wasn't just because of its appearance, but because it was repeating his feelings.

Suddenly the councilmen roared out again, this time mocking the puppet Jojo's pleas.

"He's just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life of this monstrosity! "

Jojo sat crouched on the floor, his head pulsating from the noise, when the puppet Jojo spoke again.

"Easy come, easy go, will you let me go? "

The councilmen bellowed back, this time sounding more outraged than entertained.

"Bismillah, NO! We will not let you go! "

Jojo gaped at the council's rash decision, and the puppet Jojo behind him began to sob hysterically. His hands balling into fists, Jojo began to tremble as the anger inside him began burning. With ferocity and frustration, he cried out the council. He wasn't about to let this happen.

"LET HIM GO! "

The council returned their disapproving glares to Jojo.

"Bismillah! We will not let you go! "

"LET HIM GO! "

"Bismillah! We will not let you go! "

Jojo opened his mouth again to retaliate, but this time the puppet Jojo spoke, pleading desperately.

"LET ME GO! "

"Will not let you go. "

"LET ME GO! "

"Will not let you go."

"LET ME GO! "

"No, no, no, no, no, no, NO! "

Jojo's heard continuously jerked back and forth from his puppet self to the council. This was getting ridiculous. His puppet self was still begging, tearfully choking up on every other word.

"Mama mia, mama mia, mama mia, let me go!"

Now the council all stood from their chairs, pointing at the puppet Jojo and screaming at him in unison.

"Beelzebub has a devil put aside for thee…for thee…for THEE! "

Jojo's breathing became intense, and his eyes darkened. No. He was tired of people telling him what to do. He was tired of being treated like a boy with no future. He wouldn't take it any longer. He wouldn't be pushed around anymore.

He was going to take charge.

As if reinforced by a god, Jojo broke out of his chains, and the floor beneath him began erupting lava. The room turned from black to red, and fire spread in every direction. Jojo charged towards the council, a new willpower rushing inside him.

"So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?!
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?! "

The restraints were still tight on his wrists, and the chains dragged behind him. He marched up to the councilmen, tackling the first one he reached. Wrestling him to the floor, he wrapped the chain around the councilman's neck, tightening the chain until the green who went limp. Behind him two of the councilmen picked him up, but Jojo quickly reacted by jerking his elbow into the first one's eye and kicking the second one clear across his face. Falling to his feet, Jojo began towards Chairman VonFrood, but was blocked by yet another councilman, who he easily defeated by performing a high kick to his groin area. Ignoring the councilman whimpering and falling to the floor, Jojo bravely strode up to Chairman VonFrood, who had actually cowered against his desk. Jojo hopped onto one of the empty desks and looked him in the eye.

"Oh baby! Can't do this to me, baby! "

Jojo grabbed the collar of Chairman VonFrood's robe and pulled him to his face.

"Just get me out! Just get me right outta here! "

Chairman VonFrood, afraid to take an eye off Jojo, fumbled as he slammed his hand onto a button. On the other side of the room, a double-sided door began to open, revealing a white light. Heart racing once more, Jojo leapt off the desk, barely avoiding a fresh pool of lava, and sped toward the door. Just as he was less than ten feet away, he skid to a stop and looked back. The puppet Jojo still lay on the floor, sobbing and curled into a ball. A slight moment of hesitation in his feet, Jojo took in a deep breath and ran back to his puppet self.

From his previous place in front of the exit to his puppet form, it felt as if it took hours to reach him. He gently nudged the puppet Jojo's back, and it looked up at him.

For a moment, time seemed to slow down as Jojo recognized the helpless look his puppet form had. The same helpless look he had when he looked in the mirror before he ran away.

Jojo heard a loud creaking behind him. He whipped around to see what was going on, and he felt his face get cold. The door was starting to close. Pulling up the puppet Jojo by its arm, Jojo raced towards the closing door, the light it revealed thinning with each second. Somehow as he ran back, it appeared to take less time to reach it. Pushing the puppet Jojo through the doors before himself, Jojo ran into the tiny crack that was left of the open door. The white light overwhelmed him, almost blinding him…

Jojo lied on the metal floor inside his observatory, squinting at the bright light above him. He had to blink a few times before he realized he left the ceiling open again. He wasn't ready to greet the sun yet, but perhaps it was a good thing it woke him up.

He lazily turned his head to the right and stared at a makeshift sundial twenty yards from him. It was a little past seven. He was thankful it was summer and his family usually didn't get up for breakfast until fifteen minutes before eight. He was just as thankful his parents didn't know about his secret hobby. They would've killed him if he found out he fell asleep at the observatory.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, tired out by an odd dream. He stretched a few times as he stood up, yawning as he walked to the observatory's exit and closed the ceiling with a nearby button. He walked down the short hallway and out the door, having to shield his eyes from the bright Whoville morning. He closed the door behind him, and froze as he noticed he was holding something.

A confused look on his face, he lowered his head to his opposite hand. It held a paper, and Jojo grimaced as he remembered what it was. He pulled the paper to his nose, silently reading the "suicide" letter he wrote before he fell asleep. He then closed his eyes and sighed. Holding the paper to his chest, he walked to the edge of the cliff. Again he scanned through the letter, wondering what would drive him to write such a thing, yet deep down inside, knowing.

"Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters…"

Jojo slightly bit his lip and wrinkled the letter. For a while, Jojo stared down into the dark abyss. It was a long, rocky way down.

Extending his arm, he dropped the tiny ball into the darkness below, watching it shrink until it disappeared.

After what felt like an eternity, Jojo turned away, walking down the path that led back to town. His hands slid into his pockets, and he kept eyes on the path, never giving one mind to the letter that depicted what could've happened the night before, never giving one concern as the balled letter itself lay abandoned at the bottom of the cliff, shrinking into a wet wad while it lied in a water puddle.

"Nothing really matters…"

Except for what it could've meant.

"…To meeeee…"

Jojo slowed down his pace, and sadly sighed. Heading down the mountain, a soft, frightened, familiar voice in his head sang to him:

Anyway the wind blows…