A name. That was all that I wanted placed on my gravestone. A name and nothing else.
A name would mean a lot of things in its own simplicity. Who this person was, what this person was. For those who didn’t know the person, guesswork was always an option. Despite the numerous people who shared the same name, each person was their own distinct individual.
That was sometimes the funny thing about the world.
Though thousands of Juan’s and Maria’s exist in the world -past, present and to come- there would always be that one exception to the stereotype of the name. The one who went against convention and standards, whether it be in a good or bad light.
Most of the time, people liked looking at the bad light. I didn’t know the full extent of why, but it was always the the first thing that people looked for.
These thoughts, amongst so many, have fleeted through my mind over and over for the past day. The morning came bustling and went without so much as a glance behind. The afternoon fluttered by like a cloud floating on the wind’s wings, but never with a direction of its own. The evening was more gentle and slow, and yet even the evening shared the same aloof ignorance with its siblings born of Time.
But Time or its children didn’t matter much to me at this moment.
On this familiar spot on this side of the wall of glass, I sit. Though I was looking out at the world of my origin, rather than looking into the world of my creation. It felt safer here. There was no one to criticize me of what I had become, at least... those who thought I had become something else.
Incompetent. Ungrateful. A liability and a liar, above all.
My teeth gritted as I punched the glass. Pain shot up from my hand and to my shoulder, momentarily more painful than the sting of heartache and the throbbing headache. But the glass stood in place, not once perturbed by the slight poke that I gave it.
I know who I am. I know what I specifically am. And so I know who I cannot be, and what I cannot be.
And I cannot be a lot of people.
I never asked for them to trust me. I never asked for anything of that sort, after all that has happened up to this point. Why would I want to? It simply wasn’t practical. Or so my mind would call the statement, ‘Because my broken pride would not allow it, and it was my mind’s stupid way of trying to protect my heart from bleeding more from the pain’.
Trust? I don’t need trust anymore. I thought, swallowing the bitter taste that accompanied those thoughts. God forgive me. But then, it was crazy to ask Him to forgive someone who kept committing the same mistake all over again.
All over again. Again, and again, and again. It was like a habit that cannot be broken, no matter how wrong it seemed to others.
…
I’m going to burn for eternity for this, aren’t I?
And yet the notion had lost a bit of the novelty fear that should have sent shivers down my spine. It was as if I had accepted that fate already, that I was to be rot in the lake of hellfire after whatever amount of time it took for God to return to this world.
No amount of asking for forgiveness will do, because since the start, I couldn’t forgive myself.
“Why can’t you be more responsible?”
“Why can’t you be better?”
“Why can’t you study more?”
“Can’t you concentrate on your work?”
“Why can’t you be more...”
God gives second, third... many chances to His children. Did humans, who were created in His image, possess the same benevolence that He showered on everyone?
I used to hope. But now I’m not so sure myself anymore.
Why? Why? Why?
Why? Why?
Why? Why? Why? Why?
Why? Why? Why? Why?
Why-
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!
I had not realized that my hands were cupped against my ears, vainly trying to keep the voices from being heard. But what use was a physical block when the assault was anything but physical? It was all in the mind. Nothing could stop that.
I cannot concentrate. The world outside has more of those voices lingering at the other side of the wall, continually jeering and whispering half-truths and even more lies.
Inside me, a voice screamed, pleading the voices to stop. Stop, no more. Stop, the pain is too much! Stop, don’t you all understand a thing?
Oh wait.
Of course not.
… Who would? Who would even try taking that initiative? That first outreach of a hand, a gentle contact of touch that would be the first step to an attempt at repair?
Really, the world asked too much of me to hope.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I shrunk back from the glass, feeling the sobs catching at my throat before they could even escape pass my chapped lips.
I didn’t want to pin for hope. No more. My soul is weary, my heart is worn. What love I have left is torn into fragile pieces in my scarred hands, and I am afraid to give any more away.
I was going to die. (I hope it is soon.)
And I didn’t want people to love me back.
I wanted to die alone. (I hope it will be quick.)
Because I knew I deserve every last bit of pain.
And whatever pain awaits me in the hellfire to come.
Two rivulets of salty tears trailed down my face, feeling the warmth from them. It was calming, in a way. And yet, wasn’t it simply an escape that always led into circles? A never-ending cycle of ups and downs.
I could cry in here, but I couldn’t cry out there. I couldn’t bother myself anymore with it. I wasn’t beautiful. I wasn’t charming. I wasn’t responsible. I wasn’t smart.
I wasn’t good enough for anyone in the world out there.
Perhaps that was the main thing that stung in my heart. That I was like some object whose value and use deteriorates over time.. My very existence may have been celebrated by many so long ago. Once upon a time, perhaps.
“Ah... Ahaha...” Laughter bubbled up in a lilting yet cracked tone from my chest.
Permanent happiness is beyond my reach. Love wasn’t meant for me. Trust? I don’t need. That was verbally established in some fuzzy part of my mind some time back.
I stood up, touching the glass with the sore hand. Cold... so cold. Was this how I felt now?
No answer. But I expected it anyway. None of my own Children would dare come near the Glass Wall even if they wanted to talk to me. And the Immortals... my heart felt another pang at the thought of Azzy’s lack of presence, but I forced myself to ignore it.
I realized with more clarity that I was worlds apart from anyone. From anything. Because I was nothing of the things that Reality would accept as pleasing.
All I want now is to keep these torn feelings away from those who wished to burn the remnants of what I once had. I wanted to keep putting one foot in front of the other, because survival was the main thing that kept my yet breathing body alive. That and a purpose. I might as well be useful where I can be, right?
Even an unloved and untrusted person can work. There’s no excuse to stop someone from working.
Blinking, I find myself back on the stale comfort of my own bed. The continuous whirring of the fan coupled with the steady breathing of another person circulated about in the cold air. The room remained shrouded in darkness as I fumbled for my phone. Blinking, it took me a while to see the time flashing on the screen.
Hours yet to a sunrise I wouldn’t be deigned to greet. I tossed the phone back on the bedside table without another word.
I take a moment to let everything sink. I regard the throbbing lightheadedness I feel with a streak of indifference. Everything and everything. The world outside met my indifference with its own.
It was a never ending cycle that I was caught in. A cycle I wanted to end with my death as the finality of everything that was my existence.
Somewhere outside, the faint barking of a dog could be heard. I shifted to my side, facing the window whilst clutching a pillow to my chest.
Might as well try to get some rest again.
END ENTRY.
