This is the tale of Major and the weight of it all:

“Major, son. I’m sorry. But I have to go.” He didn’t know why, but he remembered the day his father left.

He had no time to waste. He had to get to the parking lot. Tonight was the night he would live up to his name.

He took the pill, and immediately he felt different. For once, his body felt different. He felt it. He felt the growing. His skin pulling and stretching. His muscles aching and expanding. His head hurt, but it felt cleaner. His body was no longer a prison for his soul. His body no longer a container for his spirit. Now he grew. And he grew. All of a sudden, another wall. A literal wall. He hunched. No stopping now.

KEEP GROWING. He heard it deep inside.

KEEP GROWING. He grew. The walls began to crack.

KEEP GROWING. The roof was crushed against his back. His chest felt heavy. The cars around him began to shake with the tremors.

KEEP GROWING. He did. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The time was now, and now is BIG. The car alarms went off. “Stop this noise!” he screamed. No one screamed back.

KEEP GROWING. He reached the other level. His growth was exponential. Snap! His skin was pulling too hard; it started to tear itself apart.

KEEP GROWING. His head felt even lighter. He began to scream. Too much pain. The ground began to sink.

KEEP. The tremors would not stop. In fact, they became stronger. He was stronger.

GROWING. He started to hear the rumble. He had reached the ground floor. The building would collapse.

CRACK! His left knee snapped. Memories flashed. If he hadn’t been so small when he was young, he wouldn’t have injured himself. He shouted, “I—”

CRACK! His right shoulder gave out. His father. He was the one who was weak. He ran away. Major would never run away. “AM—”

CRACK! His hips gave out. Too much. Never too much. His life was more than overwhelming. It wasn’t going to be now that he would falter. “MAJOR!”

KEEP GROWING. The shouting stopped. He couldn’t say a thing. There was something in his throat. He opened his mouth. Nothing would come out. The weight was heavy enough. He didn’t want it anymore. “Please stop,” he thought to himself.

KEEP GROWING. “Please stop,” he cried. “I want more time.” Time stopped; there was never time for him. “I can’t, ok? I can’t. I’m weak. I’m not as much.” He was. But he was so much he couldn’t outgrow himself. And because of it, he crumbled on top of his own chest.

Crack. The last pillar fell.

The very next day, newspapers reported that an earthquake had happened under Major Tower. Not many casualties. Strangely enough, the building collapsed inward. And because everything happened around 3 a.m., not many bystanders were around.

The funny thing is, he died never being Major.