Later that night we sat outside roasting prime cuts of gecko with some nuka-cola. Matt brought up an interesting discussion.
"Why are we living? Six-feet-under in a pine box would beat being alive in a crappy world like this, wouldn't it?"
"Go ahead, try and end your misery right now," I said impassively.
Matt brought his gun to his head with his finger on the trigger. We sat, perfectly still, for at least five minutes. Eventually, he brought the gun down again.
"I-I just couldn't do it…"
"It's the will to live, Matt. Nothing in the world wants to die. Nothing, no matter what people say. Survival is the point of existence. Things are alive so they can… live, I guess."
"What about suicides?" Matt questioned.
"Well… uh… suicides they… um… they… --"
"Ah-ha!" Matt exclaimed. "So you don't know everything!"
"Hey, back off, I only pretend to know what I'm talking about, ok?"
I sure do like pretending to be the smart one, don't I?
We finished our food and faded to the world of dreams. I didn't know or care what would happen the next day, because all that mattered was surviving a day at a time.