1
Ugh, don’t even dare to let me blabber about facing some old friends. I am just being locked to forcefully engaging with them. Chit-chattering nonsense had to be the most abstruse thing in this world. The thought of escaping them lingered on me the whole time, but for politeness’s sake, I struggled my best to adapt.
I would presumably talk a single word or so, then immediately proceed to poseur a mannequin, trapped in my eternal soliloquy.
Not like I loathe them, it’s just that I don’t like to converse with people. It drains myself so hard to the degree where one would think I may collapse at any moment.
The problem will not halt here. Because of that, I suffer from solitude, an absolute alienation, a solemn desolation. The only way to hold my sanity is by conversing in online communities, the results of me who can’t even withstand the pressure of a single facial expression.
My, what an unpleasant sight of myself.
People might interpret me as a loner weirdo. Or maybe see me in pure disgust, as when a twelve-year-old girl found a cockroach sticking itself to her chest. Honestly, I felt there is no fallacy in the way they would think of myself, I’m not even particularly agitated. I recognized there was nothing I could possibly resolve. Heck, I’m not a flea who pleads to its host to suck their blood after they painstakingly clean their hair. Why would I?
2
“Oh, pretty. That would be shameful to handle such immense envy, isn’t it?”
“But don’t we live in this kind of society? Where people suck others for the sole purpose of surviving.”
“So, you’re one of them.”
“Indeed, I myself, are one of them.”
“Hm, shame.”
I stood silently, listening to their crap. I don’t agree nor disagree. It’s just too dazzling for me to handle such complicated nonsense. Neither like I care in the slightest.
“What do you think?” said one of them, leaning his head towards me. I foresee that this occurrence might happen eventually.
“I’m not a smart one in the group, never did. I can’t quite follow your discussion either. So, please, don’t mind me,” I said — humbly. “I suppose, whether or not I give my honest argument, there would be no difference in the output of how this world will work.”
It’s just pointless. To put it simply, this absurdity is not worthy enough to spend my time, nor their time either. The laws of this universe will not — slightly or drastically — change because we talk about it, even until our heads explode. No one cares. They’re just proving to one another — how smart they are. For me, they’re just proving of how arrogant they are.
I hate living. I hate dying either. I would like to have a mind where I couldn’t care about a single thing in this world. More apathetic than the most apathetic human being ever possible.
But that must be boring, wouldn’t you say?
Living in this world, feeling nothing; as empty as those meaningless debates.
See, I’m not really disturbed by boredom if it means that I can run from this unimaginable cage. I would — with pleasure — trick myself if it means that I grant freedom, even if it means that I must imprison myself within another cage.
I’m tired. But at least I tried.
3
The conversation goes on. I still sit quietly, looking at them both, not surprised that they are still debating.
“It’s for equality….” I heard one of them say.
Crap, not the “Equality” again.
I can’t help myself but to disrupt, “Do you think civilization will achieve their equalities someday?” I asked.
“Yes, of course,” he said, without stuttering.
“I’m sorry to say this, but you sound like a delusional utopist.”
“No,” he said.
“If you never care to fight the inequalities, then it means — yes, it would be only a dream.” Then he went on, “You see, the problem with all of you, ignorant douchebags is — you grumble about how incoherent things are, but never do shit about it. You do nothing about — literally fucking anything. And then decide to spit on people who fight for your own rights. Whining like a wimp of how pointless freedoms are.”
I let my wry smile be exposed.
“Listen, I sympathize with people who struggle, people who fight for their own rights. I genuinely respect them. But you? No. You do nothing. All you did was squeak all day long, like a mule who hurt its own throat because its master doesn’t fill its needs. Not a single of your actions helps the one you mention in your noble speech. If not, you just monopolize their poverty, their suffering, their wounds; for your own heroic-affirmation fulfillment, to feed your narcissist thirst. You, surprisingly, not knowing that you are the one who exploited them. You’re not so different from those elites you badmouth off. An act of activism? Please be joking. All you presented is an act of fraud. A mere masturbation to amuse your own.”
After those terribly long words that came out of my mouth, I sip my espresso and look at him deeply. I seldom care about what they say, but this matter is out of the line. His lips tighten, irritating to say whatever counter-arguments he would think of.
“I helped them,” he said. Now he stutters.
“Well, of course, yes. Naturally.”
“I said I helped them! Don’t compare me to those charlatans hypocrites.”
“Well, thus good for you. Therefore, what all I’ve been saying doesn’t upset you whatsoever.”
I couldn’t care less about what kind of help he offers to one who he mentioned, nor if it is just a blatant lie. If he says so, then so be it.
4
Equality, equality, equality.
People seem to like this concept very much. Of course, that’s for the greater good. We beseech to live in an equal society, where there is no discrimination, unfairness, bigotry, injustice, intolerance… you name it.
People encouraging each other. Empowerments everywhere, embracing the identities. Masses down the streets, fighting for our rights, our equalities; enraged by the face of tyrants.
Nothing left for me but to wonder: is that true?
Are people born equal?
I can’t quite find the answer myself. I don’t really think people are truly equal. It seems that God made us — indeed — equal, by any means, not in a state where anyone above or below each other.
But, do we?
As we grew up, we knew that life wasn’t that fair. We spot the inequality breath within ourselves, slowly and surely. That which inhabit our darkest spot, lying deep down beneath the soul.
Do we truly care about equalities?
I don’t think so either. I could imagine, some people — the ones who bury themselves on the lowest strata, would hide their insecurities and enviousness behind such a term as “Equality”. The kind which has nothing to contribute to this society. It is depressing that I might be eligible to fit into this category.
I could imagine, some people — the ones who hang themselves on the upper strata; wouldn’t care, much concern — about people below them. If not, they would try their best to maintain the status quo as long as ever be. Even dare to widen the gap. The kind which leech everything of this society.
I do believe that equality is nothing but full of lies. A falsehood of how we interpret these unknown variables. A sheer political tool. I can’t really see in one’s mind the scenario where we possibly live in a serenely stable equality.
But we can’t really accept inequality either, right?
5
In an absolute silence, I plunge myself into conscious nothingness, staring blankly at the clock that sits at the edge of my room, a wooden vintage; pendulum clock. I got it relatively cheap from a local flea shop not a long ago.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
The pendulum keeps swinging restlessly, to swing exactly equal distances from dead center to the left, as from dead center to the right. Never dare much try to stop itself. As if it has an oath to keep moving forever. Or rather, I would say, a curse, which reminds me very much of Sisyphus.
A sudden sound startles me. A loud ringing sound.
“Twelve o’clock,” I murmured.
Fireworks blazing up high in the skies, reminding everyone beneath them — it is a moment of celebration. A New Year’s Eve.
I stare at my ceiling while listening to those nonsense outside. The white, plain, and flat surface somewhat intimidating me. A spider work relentlessly as it going back and forth embroidering its cobwebs, not knowing that it is a New Year’s Eve.
Oh, what a poor guy.
“You should stop, mate. Enjoy your day’s off. Everyone is having fun right now, leave your work for a while and have the time of one’s life,” I said. I wait for his response, but where in the hell a spider would answer me in a sense that I could understand. I leave it alone. Maybe it is indeed having fun while doing his own stuff.
The longer it goes on, the louder and louder the fireworks outside, as if it doesn’t know the word “burnout”.
As the time pass by, I found myself slowly getting more and more isolated. Probably, soon enough, that spider would come to me as well, knitting me like I am a thing that have never been used; a long forgotten entity.
I don’t want to open my phone. I can clearly imagine what’s on my feeds — a bunch of fireworks, bullshit quotes in a new year night, and a pile of images that describe a mortal happiness.
Why would people happily live in pretense?
I cannot stop thinking about it, when I realize that it’s half past midnight and I still can’t sleep.
What should I do? Should I go outside and touch some grass? Talk to random people about my uninteresting daily life?
What an astonishing idea. Yay. Yippie.
I’m not sure if I didn’t feel like talking to people, or if I felt like they didn’t want to talk to me.
I don’t know. I just can’t.
Something had happened to me or within me and suddenly, it seemed, without realizing it, I became persona non grata. No one called me anymore. No one invited me to do anything. I was alone, and somehow, that felt appropriate.
I stood on an invisible bridge above the ocean. Where no one and everyone feels distant. Where I couldn’t see anyone, nor anyone couldn’t see me either. Where I could mourn my loneliness peacefully. Where, wherever I go, I only see nothing much but two shades of blue.
2021
