Work Text:
They are nothing.
Overbearingly nothing. They are just flesh and bones, the light burns into their eyes. Their brain reacts like a newborn, overwhelmed by new sensations, shutting their eyes. So detached from humanity, so new and untouched by everything. A blank state. Are they even a person? What makes a person? What makes a death worthwhile?
Even their mind, their very essence isn’t someone yet, but his body is very much his. Or was. Modeled after a dead man. An unmournable man, how could you mourn someone who a thousand faces, who all walk around with their memories. How dare you mourn a man who cheats death? Does anyone light a candle for the man who ate a bullet for rent? Can a dead man claim their body as his?
They are nothing- then they are overwhelmingly a person. They- He is now Mickey. You are now Mickey and you understand how blessed you are to be someone.
He was Mickey- but Mickey died-
deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead
The bullet. His mother. The frostbite. The illness. The radiation. The drugs. The stares. The questions. What does death feel like? How can you know death if you’ve never experienced life?
Memories forced into the freshly printed press. The news is out, the vultures feast. The workday begins. Clock in, the angels will clock you out.
A life given, a life never asked for is given. Horrible purpose, insecurities, debt, and love is given. Never asked. Just given.
But life is precious. Being a person, having a life, is better than being cattle. Meat bred and feasted on for the sake of someone else’s tomorrow. Again and again and again.
Thank you sir, thank you sir, even being meat is better than being nothing. Meat has purpose.
If you’re nothing what is the point in crying? Nothing negates suffering. Meat is allowed suffering.
The wires- the brick- feed you life. Make you into a person. You don Mickey.
But Mickey is dead- the bullet- bangbangbang.
It is your duty to live up to a dead man’s life. His insecurities, his pain, and his loss. Because at the end of the day there is no other option.
You are Mickey Barnes, the seventeen one to live. You are Mickey, because that’s what you were created to be. You are Mickey because that’s the only option.
And you are so grateful.
It’s all that the dead Mickey Barnes has allowed you to be.
You mourn the unmournable, but thank him for the life stolen.
You are Mickey_17.