He Did Not Survive

• Alexandra Austin, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2008

His smile is wide, cheeky, revealing. His face is bright and his language inviting. His eyes are, cold. Sad. Different. He is the picture of contentment. Yet he is a house built upon sand. His stable, assuring exterior is sinking.
Man’s first priority in life is to survive.
It always has been and it always will be.
Since the very the moment that first confused, dishevelled homeo sapien stumbled through a little power trip called evolution; he had one thing on his mind: survival.
But, how does one lose the will to survive?
Are thoughts of contrary accepted among society? Society is built upon uniformity and acceptance. Can difference belong? No. Negative. Wrong. The consequence of a muted persona is fatal.
He decided to change in year nine. He had had enough of being misunderstood. He was sick of being overlooked, even though he stood taller than the crowd. He went about his change in many ways. He gave his thoughtless exterior an overhaul. Those jeans. That gel. His watch. People began to notice. As new interest developed he suppressed his instinctive thoughts. He delivered the wanted answers and only ever asked the vital questions. His efforts did not go unrewarded. His standard vacant Saturday, once void of an event or return call, now had a date upon it.
He progressed through year nine learning, and forgetting. He mastered his skills and learnt what people wanted to know. He manipulated his persona, convincing himself that he was getting everything he had ever needed. He wanted what he was earning. He still wanted to survive.
But how long until the weeds would reshoot? How long until he would find himself lost, and have forgotten his way home?
Not long.
The greatest pain is not inflicted by the sharp stones which line the path. The most hurtful confrontations are never as dangerous as the most powerful realizations. He had come so far. He had thought he had gained so much. He was three miles away, but fifteen miles from home.
He hit the iceberg and reached for safety, frantically trying to grasp his composure. His cries for help strayed unanswered. He was in it all alone. The contrived thoughts which plagued his mind grew weak without their fuel of artificial interaction. Before long he was denied of the security that he had created.
He was left scarred. Empty. He was worthless. Exhausted. Devoid of a true person.
He wanted relief.
He did not want to survive.
He did not survive.