*Thank you for giving this short story a chance. If you have the time, please leave a comment and let me know what you think. I am open for anyone to criticize this work to help me improve my writing.
Where am I going in this life? This is what Michael asks himself everyday, examining the presence before him in the reflective glass of his bathroom mirror. His life never had a real direction to where it was heading. Unsure of even the cause of his own existence. Michael traveled across himself with his glossy green eyes as if to see the benefits that could push him forward. Michael lowers his head towards the sink, staring at his hands, which grasps the sides as if he were afraid to leave. Michael's skin peeled near his fingernail with scars from work. Michael thought of the time when life was easy, never had to worry, never had to think of anything that could effect the future. His eyes closed for a moment, enduring everything.
His mother, whom died of a heart attack, entered his thoughts and immediately felt the wet drops from his eyes. She always supported him through the toughest times when he couldn't see why. Why bother with anything? Now he's alone, without a father, without a mother, without a rock.
Michael never knew a father. Someone to place catch with, to show him the ropes of the real world. He's heard that he was a writer somewhere, but she never gave him his pen name. Another individual that could care for him. He knows his father doesn't know him or that Michael's even alive. Figures, he thought to himself.
His thoughts traveled to his workplace. A mechanic shop, which rests near a grocery store and a thrift shop. Across the street were townhouses that scattered throughout, with a road that leads further within. He opens his eyes to watch the scars, feeling nothing but shame. His timeline rests in his hands.
His heart quickens as he looks at a half open pill bottle that sits next to his clattered assortment of essentials for waking up in the morning. He's spent many nights wondering if today is the last day of his life. Giving up sounded like a selfish way to get out of life easy. He rather died being remembered as someone great, rather if it was being the hero for one last time.
Being a hero, Michael thought. He chuckles a little at this imaginary word. The pill bottle, calling his name, stands without movement. The heart beat, almost unbearable, went throughout his chest. He refused to let go of the sink to calm himself down. Should I do it today? Would anyone care? These questions were always the hardest answers. Michael couldn't trust many people. Everyone seemed to be after something. He couldn't bear to stand anymore, but he couldn't let go.
Michael's co-workers would notice. His boss was never disappointed with his work. He always praised him for everything, even mentioning a promotion. Is that was he wanted? Is there a point? Is he being irrational? Perhaps he is.
Michael lets go of the sink. He can't hold onto these thoughts. He must see the benefits. Michael grabs the pill bottle and throws it into the bathtub on the right of him. Pointless, he thought to himself. He watched as the pills from within explode throughout the bathtub. He looks at the clock hanging above his door. Michael needs to hurry before he's late to work. He proceeds to finish his morning routine and heads for the front door.
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