I switch gears and watch a video of a man who jumped to his death from a very tall cellphone tower somewhere in Ukraine. I skim through the caption, name was Boris, depressed junkie, wife took his kids away, blah blah sob story. The video is grainy but the sound of his body impacting on the ground is very violent and comforting. After the video a bonus: pictures of his autopsy. He is lying on a gurney. His jaw has broken loose and hangs connected to his skull by very thin strips of flesh. Despite all that his cheeks still look smooth, Boris was young, maybe even a teenager, his left leg has broken off clean at the knee and all of his intestines are on the table next to him. I close my eyes and imagine:

>being Boris
>standing on the ledge of this huge cell tower
>feeling exasperated
>missing my kids
>hating my bitch wife
>wanting to die
>closing my eyes
>taking one last breath
>taking a step into the nothingness
>free falling
>struggling to breathe as the air rushes down my lungs and then

I imagine the possibility that maybe his death wasn’t even instant. Maybe we always feel something when we die, even if it’s only for a fraction of a millisecond, it’s still something and it’s probably the greatest pain a human can ever feel. I imagine what that death moment must have felt like for Boris, the pressure it must have taken for his guts to explode out of his mouth. Then I start to feel sad and like death is coming for me too, just not as fast as it came for Ol Boris. Best case scenario? I’m already about halfway in the grave, a thought that depresses me even more so I click off bestgore.com and look at racist, sexist memes on social media which at this point is only slightly comforting nonetheless.

Author: redfishsmoking

i am a homeless drug addict from brooklyn with an obama phone and i have a crush on the nurse at the methadone clinic

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