If I knew you and you knew me,
If both of us could clearly see,
And with an inner sight divine,
The meaning of your heart and mine,
I'm sure that we would differ less,
And clasp our hands in friendliness;
Our thoughts would pleasantly agree,
If I knew you and you knew me.
-Nixon Waterman

Prologue

In the unimaginably broad spectrum of life, there are natural laws, and there are theories.

But the thing with theories is that they’re never completely proven. There’s always one exception. One exception that ruins everything.

According to theory, I should be at home in Santa Fe right now. I should be sitting at the table doing homework and watching my father finish the daily crossword. I should be able to smell the rich, vibrant spices burning on the stove or hear the delicate clanking of silverware as my mother sets the table.

According to theory, life is a gift.
According to natural law, and excuse my frankness, life sucks.

Once upon a time, I was flying. Simply put, I was happy. Occasionally I’d sense the aching feeling that life at the present was too good, and that nothing this great could be realistic. I had a family, a home, friends whom I adored, not to mention a brand new car. I counted my blessings.

I’ve always trusted my feelings, and true to their word, the happiness ended abruptly. All of the sudden, everything changed, and this time, it changed for the worse.

So much for theory.

I’ve always wondered what my life would have been like if things hadn’t happened the way they did. I guess I’ll always wonder. My father had always told me that it’s natural to contemplate life and death. It doesn’t mean I’m suicidal, or goth, or emo, or whatever. I’m not worried about myself. That’s the last thing I care about. I care about everything, and everyone, I have left. I’ve already lost the most important thing in my life, and I’m not about to let everything else escape too.

I guess that’s why I’m doing this. Some people may call it crazy, but to me it’s a necessity. It’s the obvious choice. I’m not trying to be noble or courageous here; I’m not trying to be the hero.

I kind of hope they’ll miss me once I’m gone.

I take one last drag of my cigarette and drop it to the ground, watching the ashes burn in the light of the moon.