It was fives years ago when I met her.I was 16. I had faded memories of my own, it was tough for me to love some one. It was strange, for it seemed like my whole life was some life designers work, like it had been designed to meet her. As I true Romantic Era loyalist I'll say we met on a beach, but I can't remember all my memories are foggy. But I remember a beach, with golden sand, seagulls and turquoise water which is rather rare considering the fact that every place is slowly becoming a dumping ground, for Earth has to make way to suit a consumerist societies needs. But I was on such a beach and I met her, we got along, we started chatting and before I knew it she was my best friend. Sometimes a platonic relationship can change lives of them involved. Her name was Tauschen. I often have have to strive to remember mine...
Today five years later, I stand under ashen cloud staring at her ashen pallor, watching her being dug into this very passive dungeon to a very melancholic world, which I perceive to be unhappy and anyone would. I was just one of the people in this mournful audience watching her during her transit to nowhere, death has always shook me, as it normally does to everyone and then most of us go back to living our lives as money's douches, striving for an identity. How can some one just die? What had she succumbed to? They say it was a virus in the air which just happened to kill her. Damn it, sometimes shit shrikes the arch of the nicest of people. Alas, what a void, damn it, what a void! Death at the age of 21 ain't pleasant.
Going back home, is like going back to a tavern of drunken memories and the weird thing is that even though you know some one, there can be that much distance that separates people, it's like you can never really know some one including yourself, apparently. I entered her room, there were these pictures , papers, words, clothes, olfactory associations and a diary as it seemed. I probably should have never opened it any ways, but she's dead as a landfill and soon I shall be there too. I wanted to know more about her world, probably because my own solitary world just ain't as interesting as her enigmatic one. Yet I felt the guilt of invading some ones privacy still remains.
I opened the book of memoirs, I was engrossed in it. Life is strange, why are we so engrossed in someone else's life when we have our own? Many pages spoke of her childhood, her flings, her vows, unrequited love, requited love,requited, a bunch of innuendos and as I proceeded through the pages, the latter entries were a lot more cynical, I guess that's what happens we do get more cynical as we get older. It spoke a lot about the turmoil some people that was killing her from within. Killing her from within? Pun intended or not? Because she really is dead and me being the martyr that I am wanted to avenge her death.
Opening that diary is killing me. I am becoming an obsessive compulsive fading human. That is, I am fading. I eat like her, sleep like her, OD just like her, but am alive unlike her, ha! But really, I have begun living my life like she lived hers. I soon found out that she was having some trouble at work, she by the way was working in a chemical factory and she found out that her boss was smuggling chemicals that can destroy lives and worlds. I found out more and was getting closer, to avenging her death, she was killed and I knew it and that was causing her turmoil in her last days.
One night, when I am really walking in beauty like the night, a SUV stops in front of me and a mob abducts me, quintessential scenario. Another quintessential scenario, I'm unconscious and I wake up in a rather secluded factory, a dim room, my hands tied, don't have a clue in the world about where I am. Then I hear the door open.
I expected to see her killer but instead I see a rather unexpected sight, her. What? How? I guess reincarnation, but so soon? " What's happening?" I asked her, bewildered to the core. " You're too advanced a species," she said. " What?" I asked and why is she insulting my evolutionary gift? " You were just an illusion of what you perceived of yourself," she said. Aren't we all, I thought to myself. " You were a species created by me as an experiment. You're created in a lab. I wanted to see if a human-like species could survive in unfavourable conditions, so I created you, used you as a guinea pig, conducted experiments on you and induced thoughts and memories in your system to make you feel like a real species," she said. What is she saying? But surprisingly
I'm not surprised, as strange as it sounds, I never had distinct memories of myself.
"You now have started independent thinking, which is dangerous for the experiment and therefore you have to be terminated and I've already injected poison into your bloodstream," she said. Before I could say anything she disappeared. Who knew, independent thinking could ever take away the right to life. It's really strange.
I have now become a part of the landfill and things really aren't as bad as you perceive them to be.
Moral of the story- really mind your own business, it's for the better.
