MACABRE REFLECTIONS OF A TEENAGER IN LOVE

I will confess a secret: I see dead people. The problem is that I also see people alive, and I can not differentiate between one and another. That’s why I always carry a pin with me. Any stranger who speaks to me goes through the little torment of secretly receiving a puncture in the ass. If he reacts, it is that he is alive; if he does not, he’s dead. I know that among the dead this is considered an unworthy behavior … but who cares what the dead think about one? The living ones do not hold me in much esteem either, but I do not care. The only thing that matters to me in this life is what a girl named Susan Spitzberger thinks of me. I consider her my girlfriend, although I’m not sure how does she considers me. This does worry me. I’m afraid she thinks of me as a weird guy. Of course, with her I have not dared to practice my Life-or-Death Test…, which sometimes makes me doubt whether she is alive or dead. It surprises me that she never talks to people. But I tell myself that maybe she is shy… In any case, I think that even if she were dead, that would not matter to me. (Everyone has their faults.) My mother thinks that she is dead only because she can not see her. But my mother is very narrow-minded. She says that you can not form a family with a dead one. However, my father spends the whole day lying on the sofa! Sometimes I think he must be dead. But he has passed my test many times, and with honors. “Tony, do not torture your father!” my mother scolds me. But I keep insisting because one can die suddenly without realizing it and keep behaving as if he were alive, you know? They are those reluctant dead who resist the attraction of the Light-At-The-End-Of-The Tunnel. I must make them understand that they are dead. But first I have to make sure that they are really dead. Last year I spent the entire course trying to convince my Physics teacher to go towards the Light. He must have thought that I was crazy. He did not react when I poked him with the pin. Then I found out that, because of the piles, he always carried a cushion on his backside. But how the hell would I guess that?!

This is a non-profit blog whose purpose is to raise funds for children in need. So if you want to make a donation in exchange for this story, click on this link to UNICEF. I really appreciate it!

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