The Tail of a Comet
Disclaimer: The following posts might instigate suicidal thoughts. Always know that there are people around you who care for your mental health and are willing to help. There are a thousand ways to beautify death but innumerable ways to describe the value of life.
Not again, not another day, not the same comet again. Why does this keep happening? Please not again. I have had enough. Another night seems impossible. Not again. Just take the step. One simple step to end this. A freefall to the end.
The blaring alarm is loud enough to wake the whole block, but the extra five minutes of sleep somehow compensates for the noise. I get up to do the usual morning routine followed by a breakfast of cereal with milk (milk goes first but I’m too groggy to fight you). Dad is checking out the news on the couch while mom is getting ready to leave for work. “The comet passes by today, the first time in this century”, Dad said as he looked up from his paper. School had made me lose interest in science but a once in a lifetime view is sure to pique anyone’s curiosity.
Today’s bedroom happened to be math class, while physics ensured frying up any remaining circuits in my brain. A consistent routine brings into question if I’m just living the same day repeatedly. At least hanging out with my friends offers some respite from a day that is stuck in time.
Nightfall brings nothing new; a few wins in the game improves my mood a bit. The alarm goes off again, signaling that the comet will be visible soon. I head up to the roof with an unusual surge of relief. Finally, a break in the routine.
The night sky, painted by a few shining stars, provided the ideal landscape for the rushing comet; a streak of yellow in the solemn black. The spectacular tail brought a feeling of awe, a view that would bring Van Gogh to tears. The shady yellow slowly turned to a fierce red, the size of the comet slowly engulfing the canvas. The bright ball of flame no longer seemed like it would pass Earth without collision; the air grows tenser, panic starts creeping up my body. Sometimes you can only watch the end unfurl in front of you. As the comet drew closer, a sudden blinding light engulfed everything around me.
I find myself back on my bed, heart-pounding, and mind racing. The alarm was blaring again; maybe it was a dream? After pinching myself to confirm that this is reality, I go down for breakfast. Dad was on the couch as usual. “The comet passes by today, the first time in this century”. Why does that sound familiar? I borrow the paper to confirm what my dad mentioned. Is the dream repeating itself?
School turned out to be less boring than usual as I kept noticing that different events from my dream were recurring in reality. The teachers, students, and even my friends were repeating familiar dialogues or doing actions according to the timeline from the dream.
The night turned out to be different. The Déjà vu from the whole day was hard to digest, so I decided against gaming and instead chose to research about the passing comet. A rare sight, but also a possible impending doom.
The night sky looked to be a place of dreams. Celestial bodies provided us with constellations, possibilities, and opportunities. The comet comes into view, a familiar feeling creeping up my body. As it draws closer, realization starts to set in. But, just like clockwork, a blinding light wipes my view clean.
I am back in my bed, coincidence seeming like a distant possibility. A dream within a dream maybe. What were the lessons from Inception? The world in front of me feels real, too real to be true. Does the comet crash? I can’t possibly have had the same dream twice. I rush downstairs to borrow the newspaper from my dad. Sure enough, the comet passes by today. I’m living the same day again.
I think it has been a few months since I discovered that I’m reliving a single day repeatedly. I always wished a more adventurous day was chosen, but you can’t choose when you have no clue why it is happening in the first place. The scientific community of Reddit is split in deciding if I am a loon or just a bored teenager. The few people that at least pretend to believe me have not provided any solutions to my dilemma. A boy with unlimited time. What does he have to complain about?
I have started to accept this as regular life and conduct experiments from time to time. I found that I will always be blinded by the light at an exact time and will always find myself in my bed following that. No one else remembers what happened in a previous edition of the day. Sadly, none of these observations help me find an explanation or a way out.
Life goes on. The roof becomes a familiar place, the comet becomes a beautiful signal. A day repeats itself non-stop. Until the cycle has been repeated enough times to exhaust all hope of moving forward. When there is no end to a beginning, the route goes on towards an unreachable oblivion, a journey that questions the reason for beginning at all.
I can see why man looked to the sky. To be in freefall, to have no control, and yet feel free. To know there is an end and yet the journey feels worth it. To simply forget everything for those few seconds, to have a clear mind, a point where panic and regret seem to simultaneously cancel each other, to feel the height of the mountain crumbling down, to not know what lies beyond but instead relish the farewell of the past, present, and even the future. A simple step is all it takes.
I hear unfamiliar voices around me, the feel of an unusual environment. A familiar light blinds me….
What does the boy wake up to? Find out in the next part here.
