Some Nihilist Prose

I am a bullet. I rip through you with no regard for the damage I've done. I barely slow down on my way out. Why should I be bothered? There is no future for me. If I slow down I will die. And I will slow down. It's just physics. So this is all there is for me in the end; do as much damage as I can and take something out with me. Get out of my way if you can.

And what? You want me to feel remorse for what I've done? I was always headed for this moment. I was created for it even. To live a brilliant flash of a life, gone faster than the blink of an eye, but with more excitement than most people experience in a lifetime.

But I still love. I still feel. You could say I'm having a bit of an existential breakdown here in my brief moment of glory. I think of the ones I left behind. I think of how little lies ahead. I speed on to oblivion but, even now, I feel my rotation begin to slow. My trajectory starts to fail and I am in free fall. What kind of legacy am I leaving behind? Who will remember me when I'm gone? Just the ones that I hurt as I flew by them. Isn't that how it goes though? The ones that remember you the most when you're gone are the ones you left scarred.

And now there is this. I am a bullet. But I am also a man. Get out of my way if you can.

*disclaimer* This was inspired by Showtime's "Californication". It does not reflect my own feelings on the world but I just finished watching the series and felt I needed to get this out.