Literal and Metaphorical Death

Hey guys. It is Peter, resurrected. I've been through quite the ordeal. Maybe I should start at the beginning. I guess that would be when that shallow cheerleader-man was trying to tear open my skull and eat my brain. Now, this has metaphorically happened to me many times, but this was the first literal occasion. I know, sometimes it can be hard to tell my deep metaphors from reality, so I thought I would point out that this one wasn't one. Sorry to disappoint, but there will be plenty more. Anyways, Sylar had me and I was ready for the darkness to overtake me.

"Oh my gosh, I like totally have you, laugh out loud," the girly man shrieked. Yes, he really says laugh out loud. I know, I was surprised, too.

Before he could finish the job, I pushed him away, and turned invisible. I didn't mind dying; I wasn't afraid of death, in fact, I would embrace it. Unfortunately, it seems human beings have some unholy survival instinct that hindered me from coming face to face with my maker. Luckily for me, I am not as intelligent in battle as I am in romance, art, and poetry. No, instead of attacking Sylar in my invisible state, I stood still with my back facing him until he hurled a shard of glass into the back of my skull and killed me.

Yes, I was dead. Finally. After many failed attempts (for attention) I had finally reached the state I had so yearned. Sweet darkness; nothingness was the only thing that could quell my constant pain and nothingness was what I had achieved. Empty. Void. Bottomless Pit in the Amazonian Jungle. Such is Dead Peter.

So I was dead for a while, and it was all good, but before soon, I realized I missed my pain. Sure, the absence of happiness was pretty cool, and the state of total nothingness was super cool, but life just wasn't the same without pain. Well, I guess that was why I wasn't alive....

Anyways, all of a sudden pain came back! I climaxed sexually as the shard of glass was removed from my skull and the infinite pain of a torn brain, fractured skull and broken heart returned to me. This was what I was looking for. This was my meaning in life. To feel the ultimate pain, death, and then nothingness, and to have a surge of human, emotionally charged pain return in a tidal wave of shark infested waters all at once. It was like a drug, the feeling. I knew what I had to do.

I went into the kitchen, grabbed a butcher's knife, and shoved it into my eyeball, straight through to the brain, and fell to the ground, dead. I awoke several hours later when Mommy removed it from my head and scolded me for being a bad boy. Death. Naughty. Time out. Such is Resurrected Peter.