Business Bankruptcy Law | Small Business Bankruptcy Laws

The Abyss
I used to enjoy sitting on the edge of the abyss. I dangled my feet over the edge, sometimes remembering just how much space separated my feet from the rock bottom. A twinge of fear would race through my chest and tickle my heart. It pumped with glee over all the excitement.

I liked watching people as they jumped in. I liked to think of just how intense the sickness and overwhelming the despair in these people must be to cast aside all rational thought and let their bodies collapse under the pressure, like Atlas if he decided he’d had enough of this business of holding up the sky, letting it crush him and finally getting some sleep. This too tickled, and I laughed.

The abyss measured a half a mile in diameter. Who knew how deep it was. You couldn’t see the bottom. It was too far down for sunlight to reach. But I knew there were rocks. That’s what everyone said, anyway—everyone who managed to climb back out. I never saw most who went in ever again. They either died in the fall or continue to wander aimlessly on the rock bottom, neck-deep in dark. And of those who made it out, most jumped back in.

The jumpers were always being chased by something. Kings, presidents, city officials, congressmen, religious leaders, taxes, debts, law, morality, and death were common. Occasionally I saw someone chased over by their families. Mostly in-laws and children in those instances; other times, divorce. These things followed closely and disappeared when the person jumped.

When I first came here, I tried to stop some from jumping. They were too damned determined to hit rock bottom, and raced past me. I almost fell in once myself, and decided from that point there was nothing to be done of it, and watched the joke of it all instead.

I don’t remember how long I sat there, watching, laughing. Now that I think of it, the whole thing was rather monotonous. Though not long ago, things started to change. I first noticed it when I saw a man and woman dive into the abyss, obviously married—they held hands as they jumped—chased by their daughter. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old, blond hair. Her face was innocent, but looks are deceiving. The girl stopped at the edge as these things often do, and peered over. She didn’t disappear, so I called to her.

“Mommy and Daddy jumped into that hole,” she said.
“I know,” I told her, and motioned for her to sit next to me. I asked her what had happened and she said they were having a fight and wanted a divorce. I supposed they were being chased by each other and didn’t know it, thinking they were being chased by whatever they were having a fight about, and this girl followed them here.

She told me about their problems, which weren’t unusual, and asked me if they’d be coming back. I said most people don’t. I should have lied. I told her about how people were chased into the abyss by kings, presidents, city officials, congressmen, religious leaders, taxes, debts, law, morality, and death. Sometimes they were chased by their families; mostly in-laws and children, sometimes divorce. She looked up at me, then back into the abyss. I told her that you couldn’t stop someone who was going to jump in because they were damned determined to do so and she dove. No warning. No time to protest. She was simply gone, and damned determined about it.

And I was alone again. Alone to watch as people jumped. I tried laughing, but I couldn’t muster the breath. I watched in silence. Middle-aged people, then young people, then children. The things they were chased by became more trivial too. Bankruptcy turned into student loans, divorce into high-school breakups, government into anyone with the slightest control over what people do. And then there was nothing chasing them, they just came and jumped. The abyss became so crowded with jumpers, they didn’t have room to be chased. A line formed, and people waited patiently for their turn, as if jumping into the abyss were somehow the most natural thing in the world, as if they’d been bred and raised to do it.

And then the line got smaller, and smaller, until there was no line. There was nobody left to go in, and nobody came out. Rock bottom—home to the whole human race.
Fuck it.