Four numbers ruined my life. After they had been spoken, nothing went the way I planned. I know, I, I should be thankful that I still had a life, which could go wrong, for many did not, anymore.
I was a rational, experienced, and outstanding pilot, living my childhood dream, envied by many. A dream job which had some downsides, stressful schedule maybe, yet offering magnificent sunsets and sunrises, like few had the chance to experience. I felt I had it…like…all, no material worries, exciting moments shared with friends around the world, a modern flat in the right part of the city, the freedom to fly where I wanted – less when I wanted – girlfriends, and later a fiancée, I had what many could not. Was this the reason of that damned code? Was I punished for all the privileges I had, for which, I tell you, I worked hard? If so, it was such a sick thing to do, ‘cause now the balance is so way lower on the bad side of life… much much lower. I sometimes don’t know whether the memories of all what happened that code day are more painful or the realization that I am not anymore what I used to be, nor I know I will never be.
I will never see the sunrise from above the clouds, not as a passenger in stand-by, even less as a pilot, nor any sunset at an exotic beach far from the grey weather, which now surrounds me every damned day. The airplane food with little taste I so often had and complained about, and the yummy meals sprinkled with wine in one of the cities I flew to had given pace to a handful of drugs, to sustain a shadow of a life. Instead of brooming motors, the silence caused by a muffled brain is my daily companion. The brief moment of glory passed, I am but a burden to the health care system and to the society. I see the look of my friends, and what people tell me is compassion and sadness, to my eyes is nothing but pity. If I am still here, instead of ending this pain, is just for my son, for as miserable a father I am, he still cannot see my weaknesses. My wife tells me that by the time he will grow up and learn who his father was, my pain will have subdued. I nod, faking an agreement which has no space in my heart. I stretch my lips in a sort of smile, but I know I died on the day my lips uttered code 7500.