writing on the walls

Smack! he was out, and who knows how long for. something hit him pretty hard and he was out like a light.
After quite abit of time blank he wakes up on a bed. The room is quiet and boring. The bed covers resemble something of a deep, subtle, blood-like red, the bed in the middle of the room, with old 1950’s dark green patterned wall paper peeling off at the edges. The room wasn’t very well lit, with just one light in the middle, a light that wasn’t doing a very good job.
He didnt recognize the room, and looked around trying to find something he could associate with, just to let him know where he was. He got out of the bed and stumbled towards the doorway to find something else he could recognise. Adjacent to the bedroom was another room, slightly bigger. This room was similiar, green wall paper. A single couch sat in the middle of the room, in front of a old television, which stood on a wooden stand. The television was off, with knobs on its right side inviting it to be switched on.

He stretched and looked for other doors to other rooms, but couldn’t find anything. It was just these two rooms, a bed in one, and a couch and TV in another. No toilet or fridge for food. he didn’t seem to have urges for either, so that was okay. Eventually he sat down on the couch and leaned over to turn the TV on.
The picture fuzzed a little but in turn, slowly made into a picture. It was footage of a baby. Baby in the bath, baby sleeping, playing, peeing, spewing. All that fun stuff. The parents he recognized, but he didnt know where from. The footage kept running, short snipets, long sequences. no sound yet though. he tried to fiddle with the volume knob but nothing came out.
The footage kept rolling and eventually the sound slowly faded in.
he started to recognize that the parents were in fact his parents, only alot younger. A few seconds later it all hit him. This was his life, right in front of his eyes. These were images of him as a baby, which he obviously had never seen before. The footage kept rolling and more and more things became fimiliar. The house, the furniture, the aunts and uncles. Everything being shown he was recognising.
The pictures obviously kept moving forward in time, and it soon started to play images and events that he remembered, moments stored in that little memory of his. From childhood memories at the beach, to his mother singing songs over him while he slept, all of this was being shown on that little box. His eyes were continually fixed, who knows how long he had been sitting there for.

The film kept rolling, and as it did, it started to get more and more painful. Mistakes that he had made, habits that took him far too long to beat, bad choices, bad relationships, bad decisions. All the times when he was too lazy to do productive things, too lazy to help people, too lazy to study and learn just that extra bit of material. All the times when he was too rapt up in his insecruties to keep friendships going, too selfish and too afraid to embrace life. All the times when he stood back and settled for the mundane, the usual, the average. All the times when he had good intentions, but never carried through with them. Watching the movie he saw all these opportunites and all these mistakes, he saw how it could have gone, how he could have actually done so much more wiht his life than he did. How he could have really changed things, the world that he lived in, and the people that he wrote life with.

The movie soon finished, ending with him breathing his last breath, getting hit by that truck. He sat there in contemplation, not really knowing where to look or what to do. he put his head between his feet and closed his eyes.
This was soon interrupted by a dull light fluttering around on his eye lids. he looked up and saw the tv flickering again. it seemed the movie was starting up again.
The tv kept replaying his life, over and over and over again. He tried to turn it off, destroy it, smash it, to somehow get rid of it, but couldnt. it just kept playing, kept repeating those scenes, those decisions that he now realised meant so much more than what he originally thought.

Sometimes i feel God would almost want to do this to us. Trap us in a room just before we go to heaven and make us watch our lives over and over again. To show us that it only really does only happens once, and how we use it effects everything forever.