"And yet, even with that horrible realization, we continue to be selfish...It's a limitless human nature."

Ana Belle Kokkali

The Limit of Heart

Prologue

What you call the world…

Once upon a time… yes, once upon a time, life was easier to deal with. Now we have to cope with such hardships in life, who do we blame? We blame a higher and ultimate being…God. Yes, Lord… humans are blaming you, and what you've done is unforgivable. But then of course, there was that one time when your mother didn't buy you that one thing, and now because of that, you're not hanging out with the cool kids. It's the guy's fault for getting my teenage daughter pregnant. It's her fault why my boyfriend and I broke up. Yes, let's blame everyone else for our problems, and when there isn't anyone to blame, let us blame God.

The world is stupid, society is so fucked up that even I, as the narrator, is annoyed. Why don't we go back and look at the antagonists in the world, AKA Satan. Why doesn't anyone blame him? It's because we as humans know that we are sinful in nature, therefore, a better chance in getting a room in hell. So we don't want to piss off Satan just in case we end up down there. Alright, I'm done with my religious babble.

The world is a big place and everyone in it is all the same and tepid. Tepid tepid tepid! Why can't we have more—

I'm getting completely off topic… I'll finish off the title… "What you call a world I call a shithole," There, my summary of what I think. Anyway, this is the perfect segue to the real story…

His name is Rex (sounds like a complete computer geek name, doesn't it?) Worthily. A freshman in college and a very promising student, and he lives in this fucked up society…

oOOo

Rex stood on the side of the building that rose a little more than fifty stories. He took a deep breath of the city air and coughed, once again, his once-clean lungs were contaminated by smog. He sighed, staring down at the pathetic array of humans, living the same life day to day. He was tired of it, and he knew a way to end it.

Of course death would have gained him the comfort of not being around anymore, but he did have something to lose. There was school, a part-time job at a grocery store, and of course his girlfriend who was shagging up random guys when he isn't there with her. Yes, he had something's to lose. Rex was ready and quite calm when he put a foot up, leaving it suspended in mid air, as if about to take a big leap.

"If there is a higher being out there…" he called out, not looking upwards or downwards, knowing that if there was some kind of higher being he or she would be everywhere, "and this thing I'm about to do is a sin, please forgive me for wanting to leave the world, it's just far too chaotic for me…"

He closed his eyes and felt a warm breeze that carried the scent of smoke and fried something. Rex opened his eyes in exasperation. "What the hell, I can't even die without smelling that shit," he muttered angrily, covering his nose and coughing once more.

"Ah! What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?" he yelled out in frustration as the smell got stronger with every breeze. Rex backed up and sat down next to one of the pipes that protruded into the top floor. "I can't die like this…" he licked his lips. Maybe I'm not supposed to die yet… the first signs of fear. What the hell am I suppose to do now? Rex stood up, sighed, and exited the last floor.

oOOo

I love how the world isn't cooperating with us, and it's basically making us cooperate with it. It's an amazing development into where we manipulated the world to us being manipulated by the world. Well, humans need it anyway. How can we think that we are on the top of the food chain? How can we eat something else that used to live? How can we eat something that the Earth decorates itself with? I laugh at ideas like, "Humans are independent! Humans are smart!" How wrong can you get? Humans aren't independent, we are the most dependent things in the world, we have to mooch of the land, how pathetic! Humans aren't smart, sure, argue about technology and the advance we have on medicine, and whatever else you can think of… but that's what humans themselves came up with. What if the methods we do isn't even actually real? What if numbers aren't really counted as one, two, three, etc? It ruins the whole world. You could almost say that every proven fact can be a fairytale, no matter what anyone says.

And that is the basic personality of Ana Belle Kokkali, she sees everything in bad fantasy, this is the second part of our story…

oOOo

It's has always been this way for Ana, go to school, go home, do homework, eat, then sleep. Nothing ever happens to her, but she does have a hobby that keeps her busy. She smiled as she opened drawer, revealing a notebook and a silver pen. Leafing through the pages, she felt an odd joy of hearing it, and once her pen bleeds itself unto the paper, she can't help but smile.

In my entire life, I have never wanted to write so much. To write what I feel and what my thoughts are; to write rather than do my homework, to write rather than do my chores… I have never wanted to write so much about ideas and my soul… I know this all sounds melancholy, or even distasteful, but my hands can't help themselves. It is only now that I understand the true meaning of being a writer. It's to keep writing, despite how much your fingers and your hands ache, despite the many errors that you may find after writing, despite how many times you hit a road block. You keep writing.

Ana put the pen down and tore the page from the notebook. "How stupid…" she sighed, leaning back against her chair. "No one would want to read this if it started out that way,"

Again, she took the pen into her hands, her fingers curling around it so gently. "Writers block," she groaned when she couldn't hear the words that were coming out her head. She looked up; maybe the outside world can give her an idea. She peered over her high window sill; she furrowed her eyebrows, not believing what she was seeing.

"It's a guy," she said, staring at the young man who had his foot dangling from the fifty story building across from her. Is this guy for real? She thought, merely dismissing him as a daredevil. Ana stood up, fully enthralled by his courageous expression that was mixed with cowardice. "Are you really going to kill yourself?" she whispered, her fingers pressing the glass of her window. Then suddenly, the man backed up, he wore an expression of disgust, then he completely disappeared from view.

Ana sighed, "Well, that was fun…" she felt sorry for him, whoever he was. If he truly was to commit suicide, then he was courageous for getting this far, but a coward for running away from the world. But then, backing out made him courageous because he actually wants to face the world, but then a coward once more for backing out from killing himself.

The pen seemed to beckon for her, she closed her eyes briefly. She knows what to write now, all she needs to do now is meet Mr. Suicide.

oOOo

And thus…

Our story starts.