I Killed A Man And Walked Away Free.

Yes! You read it right. I have killed a man and I walked free.I killed a person who was a shadow to me. And worse, I killed him so I could make money .I had known him for as long as I’ve known myself. We were poles apart but close. I remember back in high school, during the annual ceremony, He wanted to recite poetry over the podium but I wanted to be in the organizing committee. I always envied him for the creative soul he was. How he used to write and I could connect with every word written on the piece of paper. He was sorted out from the very beginning. He wanted to travel and write not for the sake of writing but for what he could feel. He used to believe if you didn’t live the page you read, you either didn’t read it right or the author didn’t put it right. He was the cool guy, running a blog, getting writing offers, couldn’t get them done because the college didn’t give him enough time to cook his own fish, but yes, He was cool. I, on the other hand, felt like I'm unborn. I had no goals in life, I had no passion to follow, no dream to chase. I was only diverging in the woods of the chaotic world the road was leading towards. I kept walking like a test motor on the run. My family was worried about me. 
We used to hang out a lot together. We used to fuck up each other’s time that we were supposed to spend studying to pass the semester. We had our first drinks together. I remember how he wanted to go all bonkers after the first two shots and I remember how he told me to stop worrying about the uncertainties of life. He didn’t believe in fate or God. “Life is spontaneous, you know?” he said as he gulped down the fine Tennessee whiskey down the throat,” Life’s just a result of the million possible outcomes for the situation. Just keep on supporting me mate, it’ll get ugly at times and you will have to fight with everyone to keep me going. More importantly you will have to fight yourself for me and promise me you will”. I could never understand what he said. I use to pity him for the ignorant soul he was, how his life would turn out to be miserable for not being able to make good grades, have a job and money. My insecurities about life never bothered him. He always used to dominate over me. He could always convince me.
It was the final semester of college. We shared the same college just like we shared the same school, the same room and everything that could possibly be shared. Right from the very beginning he used to ask me not to worry about him. While everyone else was getting jobs for the academic resume they had, he was left out. I, on the other hand, couldn’t also do any better provided the lethal combination we had. The mutual let’s not study thing shared by us. College was getting over. We had to be settled for the sake of being settled. I got rejected in 4 interviews over a span of just 4 days. I was frustrated. He was sad for me too but I realized it too late. I came into the room and found him waiting for me. I didn’t say much. He could sense the fear of survival and the regret of his presence in my life. He felt guilty. He came to me, hugged me and said,’’ I will never be able to forgive myself for what I did to you, I had no clue I was such a bad impression. All my life, I’ve been with you and I wanted to make you happy. I realize you want me to leave. I realize you want this ignorant soul to leave so you could do that white collar job. I know you can’t afford to support me at this time. But this is when I asked you to fight with yourself for me. Don’t let me go”. I was too pissed off to acknowledge him, I lashed out at him for making my life miserable.
He was broken. Even he had the failures going on in his life. He wasn’t able to put thoughts to paper, His blog was idle for a year. My words were just sufficient for him to walk away. He walked out of the room into the balcony, Lit up his ciggerrete and looked at the sky. He smiled and said those final words.
           “It was when I wanted you to hold me, it was when I wanted you fight with yourself”
And he jumped out. I watched him die right in front of my eyes.
The person who jumped that night was the part of me that believed in following your passion. He was the part of me that was ready to risk few years of his life to live his dream. To travel and to write not for the sake of writing but giving words to feelings. My insecurities killed him.
I killed the writer in me that night to survive.