The Meaning of Life

            It all happened as if in a dream. The flashing lights, the cheering fans, the humid air. A bead of sweat rolled down Jack's cheek, dripping onto the already wet stage floor. His fingers flashed across the frets of the guitar, a blur to the human eye. Then, with a final strike to the strings, the last song came to its finale. This night's repertoire was over.

            Laying the guitar on its stand, Jack left the stage. He would allow the technicians to clean and pick up the equipment. For now, he was content to escape from the platform on which he was idolized. He could barely stand the two excruciating hours he was required to play every second night. No need to prolong his agony.

            In the beginning of his rock career, things had been alright. Jack had never actually wanted to be a rock star. He enjoyed a casual get together with friends every now and then to play for fun. Somehow, his friends had convinced him to play guitar in their band. Apparently, Jack was so incredible that they ‘couldn't' do without him. Of course, he was extremely gifted when it came to guitar, and he didn't want to let his friends down, so even though he didn't really want to join this band, he smiled and acquiesced.

            Over time, the band grew more popular, until one day they were offered a record deal. Jack wanted to refuse, but the band would only be given the deal if they all joined. So once again he watched from the sidelines as other people decided his future. After all, he couldn't very well let his friends down. So with great reluctance, Jack signed the contract; the sentence to his imprisonment.

            Four years had passed since that painful mistake, and every one of the one-thousand four-hundred sixty-one days Jack had grown more miserable. He was plagued by regret, but there was no going back on the agreement, so Jack did his best to pull through.

            Now, this very night, the contract expired. There would be no more quiet compliance. Jack was ready to leap from the sidelines and grab the reins of his life. He would not let this chance to escape slip free.

            Jordon, the lead singer of the band, brought out a six pack of beer and placed it on the small table in the back. He tossed a can to each member of the band, including Jack.

            "This is a toast," he smiled and raised the can, "to the success of the past four years, and to the adventure of the next four!"

            Jordon opened the can and gulped down its contents within seconds. The other members followed his example. All of them, that is, except Jack.

            Jack stood there glaring at the can with a raging intensity. To drink this substance would be to celebrate his anguish. He couldn't do it.

            "Aren't you going to drink up Jack?" asked Jordon, a questioning look pasted across his defined features.

            It was now or never. Jack took a deep breath and looked Jordon in the eye.

            "I'm sorry guys, but tonight was my last night. I'm out."

            At first they peered at him dumbly, with an air of confusion, as if they couldn't piece together what he had just said. But soon, Jordon appearance of confusion changed into one of anger, and he exploded.

            "What the hell do you mean, ‘you're out'!?!"

            "I'm leaving the band." Jack wanted to say more, but his heart seemed to be stuck in his throat, cutting off any means by which he could produce sound.

            "So then what in God's name do you plan on doing now!?!" Jordon cried menacingly.

            "I... I want to live in the woods. I want to sleep on a matted bed of leaves. I want to inhale the fresh air, scented with pine. I want to be free."

            "You want to live in a forest!?! What type of ludicrous dream is that!?!"

            "You wanted to be a rock star, and you dare to call my dream ludicrous!?!" Jack shot back, his own anger starting to flare for the first time in years.

            Jordon's features took on a red hue as his fury grew. He was practically fuming.

            "We can't lose you Jack! We need you!" Jordon shrieked, "What would we do without you!?!"

            "Find another guitarist. I don't think it will be that difficult given your popularity." Jack paused a moment, "You've lived your dream Jordon; now let me live mine."

            Jordon now realized that he had lost the war, and after all the battles he had won. He wasn't used to Jack fighting back. Yet he gave one last feeble attempt at an attack, for the sake of making Jack feel bad.

            "You're being very selfish Jack!"

            "Well Jordon, selfishness by definition is being ‘concerned mainly with oneself', so I suppose you could say I'm selfish. But is an interest in my own needs and desires so scandalous that you consider it a negative attribute? If so Jordon, you are far worse than I could ever be. I was just a tool that you used for your own advancement. I never used anyone. So yes, maybe I am selfish, but I do not completely ignore the interest of others as you do. I do not control people, and hurt them in the process, simply to better myself. That, Jordon, is what makes my selfishness noble, and yours perverse."

            No one spoke. Not even as Jack exited the room. They sat in watch as he walked out into the murky darkness of the night.

            Walking down the derelict street, Jack heard the far off hoot of an owl. His lips formed a wide smile, and his eyes twinkled with delight. It was the sweetest music he'd heard in over four years.