Goodbye, Gregor - SCP Foundation

≡

View Content Warning

Hide Content Warning

This article contains implications of suicide.

A roach.

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. No. Gregor Samsa, had always been a gigantic insect. An insect of medium height, to be fair. A damned insect, what did it matter?

It was kind of peaceful, when he put it that way. When he accepted it. For all everyone else cared, he was not human- for all they knew. Gregor was fucking sick of himself, more than anyone else. The so-called peace never would last a moment longer than two. Modern day Sisyphus with not even a myth to his name, he was not even special, is that not the worst? To know you are replaceable and worthless.

No, Gregor, that is not the worst.

The worst is thinking that, but convincing yourself against it at the last second. Holding on. Thinking you will make it. Every day. You are a worthless insect. No, it’s okay. You’re human. It’s okay. If you did not exist, what would everyone else be grateful for? Is that worth? Do you call that your worth?

It was actually all quite simple. He had come quite close to discovering it. He was a black hole, our friend Gregor there. You can’t see him now. Our Gregor who only incoherently babbled to himself, because he had no one. He still does not. He does not even have himself. How sad is it that we won’t ever hear from him, would you like to know what he thought then? Why would you? You are a good person. A worthy person, surely, more so than Gregor. You know I’m right.

Maybe one person would like to know, but Gregor should have thought about that before he moved away from there, before he crawled away for good. The weaker Gregor got, you see, he’d get stronger… A foolish thought, wasn’t it, Gregor? Did he need your strength? What could you possibly have given him? What had you given him before? Nothing, Gregor. No thought was put into this. Not when you were 12, not when you were 17, not when you were 24. You've been nothing but a waste.

A letter sat on his desk then, out of sight, a letter of ridicule. “I’m sorry”s and “please text back”s from the man behind his slaughter-to-be, could you imagine the shame he felt? Not at all, Gregor would not feel shame. Didn’t you hear him, blaming him? But who is to blame other than you, Gregor. Only if he accepted it, there and then. He thought, I know for sure, he thought he had amounted to something. He had been thinking “I’m dead now. I’m dying. I’m something- fuck, I’m finally something!”. He thought they would care. He thought I would care. He thought I'd stop him. But you're so close, Gregor. You never got this close. You might make it, now.

I'm joking.

You have not amounted to anything, Gregor. You are less than nothing, Gregor. You are a mere object of disgust, Gregor. I take it back, Gregor. No one cared about you enough to be disgusted. Other than me. Me, who is him, you see. The only person who’d look and see. Nobody cared about him enough to tell his story.

Pardon me smiling now, his story, much ado about nothing, isn’t he? All that he will ever be.

He won’t be much, now. Gregor is a good man now. He is ████ nothing, and I’m free.

I’m dead, now.

And this? This is more than I ever deserved.

The most only acknowledgement he will ever get.