Volume VIII: Inherited Dysfunction

11. To Be Lost

You ever get out of bed and look around, and just by looking around you know that you should have stayed in bed? You know it better than you know your own name. But you can’t stop the endless tick of time. You can’t stay there, as much as you want to. You have to get up and keep going. The really screwed up part about getting up and making that kind of observation? When you realize that all your days are like that, a series of bad days. They never end and they seldom change. They simply are. A line of bad days. One after another. And that becomes your life. My life. A series of bad days, in a row - one right after the other.

This is just another bad day. This is just a number on the line. Another sleepless night. Another pointless date. I could look around and try until I’m blue. But it won’t change. It won’t end or stop or be better. This is just another day. This is my life. This wasn’t always my life, but somehow along the way, it’s become familiar. And I’ve become accustomed to it. I’ve become...stable, or the closest thing to it that I could ever come to manage. People like me aren’t supposed to be stable. We’re never allowed to be sane and free. Freedom is a really bizarre concept. Those that consider themselves the freest of the bunch are truly the most imprisoned. They have the most, and heaviest, chains.

I am here, in this, in the now. I’m in this moment, which is one in a line of moments that just continues on. Just another bad day. In a line of them. In a line. In a life. In this life. In my life. And no matter how hard I try, it just won’t stop. Won’t slow down or falter. This is now, this is my life.

I’m here. Now.

Love just...sucks. It’s truly very screwy. I should slow down, I should explain. Should. That is such a wacky concept. Should. I should slow down. But why? I’m used to my usual pace, that’s what makes it usual. If it’s too quick for you to keep up, why should I slow down for you? This is my life and my story - this is my drama. My tragedy. Why should I move at your pace? Would you change your step to keep up, or slow down, to match me? Would you? I highly doubt it. Why should you conform your life to mine? There’s no reason, at least, in your eyes. Then again, I wouldn’t want you to. I’m having enough trouble with my life, why would I want someone else to share in the madness? It’s unique to myself.

Je suis un enfant unique.

It’s supposed to mean that I’m an only child. But if you translate it, word for word, it should come out to something like “I am a unique child”. Funny how much you lose in the translation, or how something simple and direct can mean something completely different.

I am myself.

No matter what happens, how many bad days I have, that fact is irrefutable. There’s no denying the simple truth of what I am. Who I am is another question entirely. But at least I’ve managed to get the particulars out of the way as to what I am. No other answer would be satisfactory. The simple truth is enough. Of course, it’s not really that simple. But it sounds good. And it’s nice to think so. The whole truth, without the fabrications and white lies, is never, ever simple. That’s why nobody uses it. It just takes too much. Too much of what? Too much time, patience, effort. It just takes too much.

Love doesn’t really suck, that was just a product of the bad days. It’s great and wonderful if established properly. See, look at things with Linkon and myself. That wasn’t founded on anything except simple chance. And maybe, that’s enough. But I was born with the ideas that the only people worth keeping around are the ones worth something. People with power. Anything else is just a waste of space. There’s no need for friends. One is independent, self-sufficient - what the hell does one need other people for when they can hack it on their own? They’d only get in the way, sway my opinions. Try to stop me. This is what Angyl taught me. Never be dependent.