Trigger happy personality.

February 15, 2008 · Filed under Uncategorized

I’m sitting in Theories of Personality and, in my attempts to stay awake, I have two fingers propping my ever drooping head up. In recognition of the fact that this class could be used in Guantanamo Bay to aid in prisoner torture, my fingers formed a smooth flesh colored gun aimed directly at my left temple. As my pointer finger fiddles lightly with the imaginary trigger, by body screams “pull!” Pull the cognitively constructed trigger and splatter my hypothetical brains all over the girl sitting next to me. I tilt my head and look at her from the corner of my eye. She’d cry. I convince myself, that on the off chance she was sprayed with my emotional brain juice, she’d bawl her eyes out. Nonetheless, it’d certainly send a clear and concise message to the professor. Analyze this professor, I’d say my personality screams boredom induced proclivities towards suicide. Alas, I digress. In my playful manner of bringing a gun to my head, I begin to wonder about the sheer profoundness of blowing your brains out, in the literal sense. I’ve never been one to toy with suicidal tendencies, but I question if that would be the way I’d want to go. Number one, you run the risk of just fucking yourself up enough to put you in a lovely, almost functional vegetable state. Flash to guardians fighting about pulling the plug, press coverage, and well…tubes. Then, I begin wondering where your best off putting the gun. You can’t easily put it the back of your head, and there’s always your temple, where my imaginary gun currently lay, or the more menacing of the options is to go barrel to mouth. So there it is, you put the gun half way down your throat, tongue the cold steel and try not to choke, all the while hopping that your aimed at the back of your brain so that you die instantly. To bring you back, I’m sitting in a classroom filled with students much like myself, me a potentially healthy and non-suicidal human being, drawing up the best ways in which to put a bullet through the back of my head whilst the teacher explains arbitrary and potentially useless ways to test monkeys. Nonetheless, all I can sit and wonder is, if in my final moments, I would want to taste a cool blend of steel and gun powder mixed with an intense fear of messing up and ending up as your favorite Lifetime special. In that moment, I envied suicide victims, at least they could accomplish something.