MyJockStrap
05-31-2005, 04:09 AM
What Would You Do?
Trace’s backside burned from sitting too long, but he minded the pressure of the monotonous ticking more than the metal seat. The group leader, who was conducting a final exercise before dismissing the group from its first night of hospice volunteer training, had placed a clock in the center of the circle of chairs. As soon as the group leader placed it there, Trace realized the circle of twelve now resembled a clock. He wondered if anyone else noticed, and he wondered at what hour he was positioned. The relentless ticking told him it was a late one, and he started feeling anxious the moment the clock was placed in the center of the group. He wondered if this anxiety was the point of the clock rather than the actual recording of passing time, especially considering its placement. Realizing the ticking continued to mark passing time, he decided he would ponder the particularities of the clock later, for now, he was pressed to answer ten questions in ten minutes before the clock sounded its alarm, and he had already lost at least a minute with in contemplations.
He looked at the clipboard propped on his lap and fiddled with the pencil in his hand before deciding to answer the questions earnestly. He resolved himself to this goal, as he scanned the first question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in 30 years? Although the time frame felt distant, he realized he had never consciously considered his mortality before. He explored his feelings and realized he would use the time to guarantee his professional success. Dying in thirty years, he felt his struggles to educate himself would have been in vain if he had not actualized himself as a professional by then, and he wrote, “I would fully actualize myself professionally.”
He read the next question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in 20 years? He immediately pressed his pencil to the paper and wrote a variation of the first response: “I would live a well-rounded and productive life.”
Focusing on the relentless ticking his heart raced, as he read the next question and wondered how much time he had left: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in ten years? He rushed to write, “I would complete my life’s work.”
He suddenly realized he did not know what his life’s work was, but as the ticking seemed to quicken, he also realized time was passing quickly, and he had several more questions to go, so he quickly read the next question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one year? Trace thought for a moment and knew, given this time frame, he would release his vice restraints. He had fought to redefine himself in terms of drugs and alcohol and had removed himself from the former, but he knew he would let the damn of his vices run free, if he only had a year to live, and he wrote, “smoke, snort, swallow, sniff, and shoot.”
Reading the next question, Trace realized his response to the previous question would remain a constant from this point on: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one month? Thinking of a month of self-destructive behavior, he knew there would no longer be a need to keep distant from every damaged person that had formed the only peer group he had ever known, and the only peer group that seemed to either not notice or care he was gay, although he never trusted them with this information. He convinced himself he had stopped hanging with them secondary to his changing interests as he became more educated. This was partly true, but he also knew it was a lie to keep him from dealing with the other one. He felt a rush of shame, loss, and regret, and he wrote, “reconnect.”
Trace felt the balance of time diminishing with each question, and he became increasingly anxious as he read the next question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one week? He immediately knew his old friends would be too busy circling their own drains to be much use to him with a week left, so he answered, “spend the week with my family.”
Trace read the next question before he could finish writing his answer to the previous one: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one day? His answer came to him with the same rapidity: “spend it with my parents.”
Trace’s heart outpaced the ticking clock as he reached the penultimate question and steadied his shaking hand to answer it: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one hour? He wrote “fuck” and saddened as he realized he rarely managed to do this while living and would be hard pressed to find a sex partner in an hour. His skin itched with the memory of Davis, and his cock struggled to rise between the contrary feelings of desire and loss.
His heart raced as if he was running when a leaden ring jangled the air and refocused his attention to the last question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one minute? Trace scribbled the word “cum” and realized what he would be doing when he got home.
Trace’s backside burned from sitting too long, but he minded the pressure of the monotonous ticking more than the metal seat. The group leader, who was conducting a final exercise before dismissing the group from its first night of hospice volunteer training, had placed a clock in the center of the circle of chairs. As soon as the group leader placed it there, Trace realized the circle of twelve now resembled a clock. He wondered if anyone else noticed, and he wondered at what hour he was positioned. The relentless ticking told him it was a late one, and he started feeling anxious the moment the clock was placed in the center of the group. He wondered if this anxiety was the point of the clock rather than the actual recording of passing time, especially considering its placement. Realizing the ticking continued to mark passing time, he decided he would ponder the particularities of the clock later, for now, he was pressed to answer ten questions in ten minutes before the clock sounded its alarm, and he had already lost at least a minute with in contemplations.
He looked at the clipboard propped on his lap and fiddled with the pencil in his hand before deciding to answer the questions earnestly. He resolved himself to this goal, as he scanned the first question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in 30 years? Although the time frame felt distant, he realized he had never consciously considered his mortality before. He explored his feelings and realized he would use the time to guarantee his professional success. Dying in thirty years, he felt his struggles to educate himself would have been in vain if he had not actualized himself as a professional by then, and he wrote, “I would fully actualize myself professionally.”
He read the next question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in 20 years? He immediately pressed his pencil to the paper and wrote a variation of the first response: “I would live a well-rounded and productive life.”
Focusing on the relentless ticking his heart raced, as he read the next question and wondered how much time he had left: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in ten years? He rushed to write, “I would complete my life’s work.”
He suddenly realized he did not know what his life’s work was, but as the ticking seemed to quicken, he also realized time was passing quickly, and he had several more questions to go, so he quickly read the next question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one year? Trace thought for a moment and knew, given this time frame, he would release his vice restraints. He had fought to redefine himself in terms of drugs and alcohol and had removed himself from the former, but he knew he would let the damn of his vices run free, if he only had a year to live, and he wrote, “smoke, snort, swallow, sniff, and shoot.”
Reading the next question, Trace realized his response to the previous question would remain a constant from this point on: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one month? Thinking of a month of self-destructive behavior, he knew there would no longer be a need to keep distant from every damaged person that had formed the only peer group he had ever known, and the only peer group that seemed to either not notice or care he was gay, although he never trusted them with this information. He convinced himself he had stopped hanging with them secondary to his changing interests as he became more educated. This was partly true, but he also knew it was a lie to keep him from dealing with the other one. He felt a rush of shame, loss, and regret, and he wrote, “reconnect.”
Trace felt the balance of time diminishing with each question, and he became increasingly anxious as he read the next question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one week? He immediately knew his old friends would be too busy circling their own drains to be much use to him with a week left, so he answered, “spend the week with my family.”
Trace read the next question before he could finish writing his answer to the previous one: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one day? His answer came to him with the same rapidity: “spend it with my parents.”
Trace’s heart outpaced the ticking clock as he reached the penultimate question and steadied his shaking hand to answer it: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one hour? He wrote “fuck” and saddened as he realized he rarely managed to do this while living and would be hard pressed to find a sex partner in an hour. His skin itched with the memory of Davis, and his cock struggled to rise between the contrary feelings of desire and loss.
His heart raced as if he was running when a leaden ring jangled the air and refocused his attention to the last question: What would you do if you knew you were going to die in one minute? Trace scribbled the word “cum” and realized what he would be doing when he got home.