Terrible Short Story Things!

War

  The young man stood on his balcony with a lit cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth. He was old enough to smoke, after all he was only 30. His life was almost over anyway, him smoking just shortened that time.

  He leaned over the railing, why deny the fact that he was going to die anyway. Being in the army for 6 years had taught him that. He had went in an innocent doctor at the age of 21. He got out of the army at the age of 27 knowing much more about life than he thought he ever would.

  He took a deep breath and breathed out the smoke that would inevitably kill him. He watched as the kids hung out on the streets. They foamed from the mouth, like wild animals, clutching rusty kitchen knives at their sides and lurking with maniacal dead eyes in packs along the streets.

Another day in paradise with the sun blotted out by a growing black hole turning the blue sky a dark lavender and shifting our gravity to weightlessness . There wasn't an actual black hole, but the clouds almost made it look like there was doom quickly approaching with the way they were blocking out the sun. But how could life get worst. What possible doom could be approaching?

  The world is already hell. With all the wars, acts of terror, racism, sexism, bad presidents making things worst, murders, suicides, homophobia, ect. , it was a shocker that the entire human population hasn't killed each other yet. And me accepting this fact, it made me feel weightless. Like the world's problems weren't my problems anymore. I didn't have all these problems resting on my shoulders. What was the point when I can't solve the worlds problems?

  And as I watch from my balcony, counting the cars that float by and watching the smoke from my cigarette make weird angles in the air in accordance to our imminent doom, I realize that I may have fought a war, but I was no where done fighting. I looked around at all the worn down buildings that anyone would mistake for abandoned. But nope, there were people living in them. People who have these problems. People who have given up. People who have no hope.

  I looked back up at the sky, I knew that swarms of mosquitoes will consume the horizon and soon the fires of hell will come creeping through the manhole covers and all will gradually turn to shit. Even more than it is now. Because there's no more room in hell and no one seems to be going to heaven, so we'll just simmer a bit until God decides what to finally do with us.  Besides I just bought a fresh pack today.  I've got time cook.

  I walked back into the house slowly. I dared to take a glance behind me to see the world I've come to know as hell. And out of everything that had happened to me. Out of ever lie, threat, swear, and smoke that has come out of my mouth, I know one thing.

  Maybe I wasn't worth fighting for anymore. Maybe it was better to give up now. But maybe, just maybe I wasn't the bad guy after all. This was a war and the "wars" we are fighting against each other are just tiny battles. And in the art of war, Once the bullets start flying you can't tell who the bad guy is. You can't tell who started shooting first. All you know is there is bullets and you need to survive anyway possible