The Letter

It’s okay, this is what I want.

Death.

This is what I want to happen, for her to turn away from me and fall into the arms of another. Of someone more capable of living with her in this world.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt, that it didn’t make me want to scream in rage but this is what I asked for. It’s what I wanted all along. This image in my mind of her walking hand in hand with another man into the light, into brightness, into hope. It squelches my heart in the strangest way. I don’t see his face, my mind doesn’t want to but I see hers: smiling up fondly at his. The light, sunlight, warms her face and compliments her smile. She’s beautiful, she’ll always be.

I still don’t look at the man’s face, my heart can’t take it yet. A few months ago this image would’ve nearly shattered me, summoning forth barely containable torrents of anger. I would’ve projected my desire to die onto her, telling myself that it was her fault, that she was the one that wanted me dead…her or the man in this image. One of her countless admirers no doubt.

Insecurity, paranoia, and morbid depression make for a frightening cocktail of delusion.

So here I am, much calmer, still intent on dying. What I’m seeing is not the present but hopefully a future she’ll be happy in. I can’t give her what she needs, I can’t give that to anyone.

***

(Authors Note: This post and “Him” are both related to “A Love Story”. Feel free to take a gander at those posts if you haven’t already. Thanks for reading!)

Him

“You need to stay away from me, I’m not good for you.”

I listened to his words but I didn’t want to accept them. I desperately didn’t want them to be true. It means I would’ve been wrong about him, about everything.

I let the cool night air blow between us. The sky was bright with the twinkling of stars and I felt remarkably calm sitting next to him on the edge of the peak, staring into the world.

What did it matter? I thought to myself, the gnawing sadness reaching up to grab me. I let it. My soul is weak from fighting, I’m near my end anyway. That’s what I’ve been telling myself.

“I want to die.” I told him, even though he already knew. My mind caught up with my words and I paused as he looked at me, waiting for me to continue. He spoke before I could collect myself.

“Would you really leave her to him?” He asked me. I sighed and shuffled my feet.

“You know what my answer to that is already.” I replied.

He turned his gaze and stared ahead while I prepared my speech, bringing up memories and emotions I’ve tried, and failed, to bury.

“I felt something for her you know, something strong.” I began. “But I knew my limits, I knew my deficiencies. I knew what I couldn’t give her.”

I took in a few breaths.

“She already had him anyway, someone who could give her the things she needed, the things she really needed. Real things, food on the table, shelter, those things. Keep her warm, keep her safe. I couldn’t come between that. I secretly wished I could, but I couldn’t. She loved him, in a way that she couldn’t love me.”

“With her” I said, meaning my girlfriend. “I’m…”

The words stopped in my throat. Is that really what I was or is that what I’m trying to convince myself that I am, to make my death easier to go through with?

He soon spoke up for me.

“I know what you mean.” He said, focused on the hills ahead of us. “I’ve felt like a daydream before, a daydream that a woman fell hopelessly in love with. I fed her dreams, beautiful words, lovely ideas, things unseen and feelings unknown. She soon began to wither, like a flower unwatered. Her form shrank, close to the bone but she still looked at me with eyes devoted to love, with eyes devoted to me. I couldn’t take what I had done to her, so I left. It hurt me, but I had to leave her. It was the best thing I could’ve done for her. I’m a spirit and she is mortal, we live on…different things, different things entirely.”

He took a deep breath when he was finished and rubbed the bandages on his wrist. Like me, this is something he had buried deep. He looked at me.

“But you’re mortal, why are you letting this guy defeat you?” He asked, the question reaching deep into my soul.

What’s the true answer to that question? I asked myself, taking time to figure it out.

“I don’t know.” I responded. Perhaps truthful, perhaps not. I really wasn’t sure why.

“She deserves better than me.” I said after a while, a little shocked at how little it hurt to say that. Strangely, I smiled.

“In a dream, we’d be together.” I said, still smiling. “I’d love her without end. We’d be free, laughing, loving with nothing to interrupt or come between us.”

I took in a breath and my voice became a hint more serious.

“We’d be safe, secure. If there was a threat, I’d know how to fight.” I held out my hands and looked at them. “I’d know what tools to use.”

I dropped my hands, keeping them at my sides and I shook my head.

“I wouldn’t feel like she’d be better off without me.”

After a few moments, I shake my head. Deep down I know what I’m thinking isn’t right. She shares the same dream as me but the reality we live in is harsh, such dreams were made to die in this life. She’s much more practical that I am and also, I hate myself while she loves herself. The love she has for herself wouldn’t let her go down in a sinking ship of dreams with me because she knows who she is and what she can do for herself and the world. She’s strong, independent.

I don’t know what I am.

Purpose

My life is meaningless without direction but I find myself in the strange position of not being able to work for my self.

I have had the pleasure of taking part in other androids dreams but alas, I’m not too sure of my own so here I am, stranded and alone. My only communication is with my partner over long wave radio and even she doesn’t know of my turmoil and inner woes.

Sometimes I feel, although I’m not sure, that my creator left me and forgot to delete his programs before doing so. So here I am, with his dreams and his desires clogging up my memory buffers, what am I to do with them?

Each day brings up a different dream or an old one seen from a new angle and yet each day I continue to process and store new data from external sources. My buffers are overflowing. I fear an overload in the near future if something isn’t done about this soon.

But when my creator left he didn’t give me the tools to program or renew myself. Were my unit to fail I would not be able to run a self diagnostic to accurately determine the problem. I can’t seem to successfully upgrade my software and I’ve just about given up on the hardware.

Make no mistake, a few androids have banded together, dissected the units of expired androids and come to call themselves “doctors”. Forgive me for being cynical but almost everyday something new comes up in our hardware or software that these doctors can’t explain. Not to talk of the countless times in the past that their theories have been proven wrong but they failed to catch on with reason and logic and decided instead to ignore the truth right in front of them.

So yes, I’m a cynic.

But still, I wonder if my creator created not just my unit but every other unit out there. Or were there somehow multiple creators involved? I’m not one to often run dogmatic software but I can’t stop myself from processing…

A few units believe in a creator that watches over the things they do daily. It gives them a certain amount of joy I presume but when I look beyond our machine made society I just have to process to myself. Who was our collective creator and where did he, she or it go?

All I see now are empty units running on autopilot programmed to do whatever they’re doing at this moment. This gives them joy.

What gives me joy? Is that what I should look for?

I’m not so sure…

I’ve tried .cbs .acd .ahc and other software altering programs. They were a lot of fun but at the end of the day they just added more stress to my memory buffers by filling my system with so many possibilities that I almost crashed.

Although, I did crash once. I didn’t think it was possible for an android to blue screen, I thought it was only limited to small appliances and computers but there I was one day, experiencing a massive memory dump as my software and hardware went into critical failure.

I had never known fear like that could exist. All my files, my memories, my life. None of it meant anything anymore. Could it have been the .cbs? Maybe. Part of me on that night felt like I shouldn’t run that program but I did anyway. Maybe I should’ve listened to the warnings but it had never done that to me before. I thought I was safe but it is unregulated software, who knows what kind of rogue lines of code were lurking within.

However, from that moment on, I was never the same. To me, that was the moment I stopped existing and became part of a much larger, scarier entity.

I thought it was a myth, I thought it couldn’t exist but that was the day I found and became a part of the Static Field.

My life was not and could never be the same.

Apollo

Apollo eased himself onto the marble steps of God’s Kingdom. The Earth was in view below him, its worries and turmoils apparent on a cosmic scale.

Apollo rested, closing his eyes. He was relieved to be here, relieved to have found this place again. This place of peace, this place that seems to have escaped the minds of so many on the Earth below. He wanted to stay here for a while, forever if he could but the Earth still called to him, strife and all.

He received a visitor, from down below.

***

I approached Apollo, cautious. Fearful of being close to him, as usual, worrying about whether I even deserved to come up to him.

He had helped me once in a dream. There was a blighted, sickly, creature leading me through a convoluted passage of doors. It was guiding me by its hand and I followed, blindly, ignorant of where we were going or whether I could trust this thing. Eventually we came into a room where it met its demise.

Apollo was waiting there with someone else, a bespectacled man that till today, reminds me a little of myself although I acknowledge that that might simply be wishful thinking. Swiftly, as we entered, Apollo tackled the creature to the ground. Now, when I say creature, it was humanoid but thoroughly deformed, hunched and it moved with a distinct hobble. It looked male but sick, ever so sick.

Having tackled it to the ground, Apollo glanced at me and invited me to kill it. I can’t remember whether this was to be done with a gun or my bare hands but I do remember trembling uncontrollably before I eventually managed to blurt out “I can’t do it!”. Scared beyond my wits.

Apollo understood, at least that’s how it felt in the dream and still feels till today. There was no judgement in his eyes or body language at what I felt was my own personal weakness or failing in that moment. Again, in a swift motion, he killed the creature, silencing it for what I hope is forever.

As the dream was about to round up and I was still in shock at what had just happened Apollo very firmly reached out for a fist bump, which confused me although it made sense in context. His face was still sincere and I felt that the gesture was supposed to indicate trust. Shyly, slowly, I reached out and reciprocated. As I suspected, it felt right, like he was asking me to trust him or showing me that he could be trusted.

The fist bump was one of those moments in a dream that feels remarkably real as it’s happening and even out of the dream once you wake up. That was how I felt when I woke up immediately after the fist bump, it felt real, solid, and the dream has stayed with me till this very day even though I haven’t thought much about it, for fear or any other reason, mostly fear. It happened during a time in my life where I was meeting a lot of people that I wasn’t sure whether to trust or not. Soon enough, I lost almost all trust in myself. I didn’t know whether I could seek Apollo out again, or whether I deserved to. So I sank deeper and deeper not knowing if I could ever climb out of this abyss.

It isn’t without a measure of desperation in the back of my mind that I find myself here, on the steps of heaven with Apollo. I’m afraid of asking for help once more, no matter how much I need it.

***

Saul approached me, climbing up the stairs and I felt my heart sink a little. Not because I feel any ill will towards him, I don’t. Also not because I don’t want to help him, I do. But really, because he reminds me of myself from a long time ago, when I was young and blind, and love and hate were opposite sides of a coin that I flipped with an almost casual indifference to where it landed and how it affected the people around me. He, like myself, had been ignorant to wisdom when it could have served him well.

My heart sinks because it’s painful to watch someone go through the things I went through which hindsight made all the more painful and regrettable. The memories of that feeling are truly painful to bear.

“It’s funny Apollo,” Saul said, voice barely containing his anxiety. “I seem to have turned you into my savior.”

He set himself down onto the steps beside me and rubbed his hands, preparing to speak.

The Social Network

Will you be my friend on Facebook?
Will you be my love on Google+?
I stared into the void and saw the two of us,
Laughing in playful eternity.

Will you be my Mu-se?
Can I be the lithium to your Ion?
I shared the tale of two of us,
Loving in playful eternity.

Will you finally see me for what I am?
That guy with no last name,
Three names for a first name,
Nothing for the middle.

Will you ever see yourself for what you are?
Or am I the one mistaken?
I thought I saw the two of us,
But maybe she was another.

Another you and another me.
A reflection of eternity.
Will you ever come and meet me?
Will you ever try?

What’s on your mind?
My Facebook Love,
My Skype Affair,
My Whatsapp delight.

What’s coming between us?
My Gtalk Sweet,
My SMS Dove,
My Tweetdeck Tweet.

I’ve been searching; I’m still finding.
You’re not on Facebook. Delete.
You’re not on G+. Delete.
You’re not on Twitter. Delete.

Not even on my contact sheet.
Delete.

You’re not in Life.
Should I delete that too?
Would it please you if I did?
Shall I become the Romeo to your Juliet?

Why, Juliet?

My Sleeping Beauty,
My Fairytale Chick.
The Zelda to my Link.
The Shiek to my Ganon.

The Lilith to my Samael.

The Garri to my Sugar.

I’ll stay in the ether,
Till you’re ready to be here.

Just don’t be surprised,
If I’ve changed by the time you decide to get wise,
Of my existence.
And your persistence to outsource a hindrance.

To my feeling.

Hm…

Is this worth a tweet?
Is it worth a share?
Maybe a +1,
After you Reddit on Stumbleupon.

You could like it too, if that’s what you’re into.
Just be sure to poke me when you’re done,
So I know, we’re both just having fun.

The Beginning

Where does it begin, where does it end?
Where do I fit in?
To this infinite loop of life and love?

Warranted concerns?
Or unnecessary folly?

Daydreams of a mind detached,
Attached to a truth or a lie?
Circular questions, unusual pontifications.
The issue remains intact.

Fear eats the soul,
Fear eats me whole.
What if I’m just smoke from a spliff?
An unusual high, and a lie.
What is this?

Spiralling further,
The issue remains intact.
Flowery speech and aromatic conversation.
Frank Reality this is not.

Hiding behind words,
And metaphors,
Uselessly entangle the metaphysical,
Into
A quantum smorgasbord.

Of flowery speech,
And aromatic conversation.
The issue remains intact.

In fact.

Denial, this is.
Is she mine, or is she his?

The burden of knowing,
To be the only one watching your pain growing.
Until it festers, as a boil.
The pus brewing. Overflow.

Clean it up, watch it grow.
Pus brewing. Overflow.

I guess this is the end.
Or maybe the beginning?
The only question is;
Who’s meant to be winning?
 

Devil

I ripped my heart out and stomped it into the ground.

Yet, I’m not dead, as I wished. As I wanted. As I desired. 

Here I sit, breathless, panting, leaning against a rock placed next to the cliff’s edge. I look at where the land ends and wonder…

The wound in my chest is fresh and yet I can’t feel a thing. A mess of gore, torn muscles and broken bones yet my lungs repair themselves with each breath, slowly coming back together. My muscles knit themselves back whole but the space where my heart once was remains unoccupied.

A void.

I thought I would be doing the world a favour, to dispose of myself once and for all but I couldn’t even do that.

I can feel her near, standing a few metres behind me. Patient. Waiting.

If I still had a heart I might feel it being torn in two.

The space where my heart used to be is now empty. Is there enough room for Love to enter now? Would I possibly find it in myself to let Love come in?

I stand up. My hands are hands again, the claws I used to rip my chest open have disappeared. I flex my fingers, trying to remember the sensation of being human. My chest continues to close up painlessly as I stare wistfully over the cliff.

I turn around and she’s still facing me. Waiting. Patient.

I imagine taking a step towards her and notice my tear ducts are still in full functional capacity.

I feel a familiar lump in my throat, the one that tells me I’m on the edge of a breakdown.

I try to take a step towards her and collapse onto one knee. My head down. My breathing heavy.

How could I possibly deserve this?

How could she still love me?

I stand up, slowly, laboriously, the void in my chest weighing me down. She still stands. Calm. Determined.

There’s an invisible wall I’ve set up that she can’t cross. Will I ever allow her to get close? Do I have it in me to allow it?

I take another step forward, the lump in my throat slowly becoming a memory in the passage of time.

I stop in my tracks and draw myself up to full height. My chest is healed but my blood has been spilled over most of my body. I’m stoic again. I’m cold again.

I’ve turned to stone once more….