The Laugh of a Dying Man, 1974

 It was as though a bullet pierced my skull and took with it the brain matter that had made up my being.  Before the death, comes the flashing of my life before my eyes.
 From the day I was born until today, I prided myself on being sensitive to others and free from prejudice.  In my world, it is not wrong to be proud of yourself, just as long as you don't take it to an extreme.  I am proud of my acting ability.  My best performance was Joe Ferone in "Up the Down Staircase", but the role that touched more people was one of the two roles in "The Breaking of Bread".
 I did this play, while at Anderson College in Anderson, S. C.  It was a play, which we did twice at the school and at three area churches.  The play brought tears to some and cheers from others.  We had to turn down offers for other performances.  Something always went wrong in our performances.  For instance, in five performances, I got a bloody nose, a bad back, and a hurt leg.  The guy that had the other role in the play got a broken wrist during our last performance.  It took a kind of sensitivity to pull off that play, and that sensitivity really can't be expressed unless you did the play.
 And today, I was going to use it for my independent study in Drama as a play that I would direct, and then use for a performance.  I have already written a 10-page paper on the play.  When I presented my paper to my teacher, today, he said that he had read the play, and said, "It's not much".  Those three words were the bullets that tore my head apart.  A man, my teacher, that I once respected, is now very low in my life.  I do not like him.  I do not respect him.  I do not think that he has any feelings.  He is not sensitive.
 My feeling of total freedom from prejudice is no more.  I cannot bring myself to love him, when he destroys something that to me is very beautiful.  My teacher is typical of our world--insensitive and cruel.  And, I laugh at myself for actually picking Drama as a major, when the cruelest and most horrible people are in it, or else they're in jail.  My prison is my life.  Can a bullet give life?  I've never seen anyone get shot and laugh, because they're shot.  The people that laugh are those who watch the shooting, and even then, it's not funny.  Bullets don't kill.  People kill.