Volume VIII: Inherited Dysfunction

13. In Matters of Devotion

Her real name was Dacien. Though there was no enemy that I could consider that she belonged to, she was still an enemy nonetheless. I needed to get in touch with Angyl and figure this out. She knew who and what I was. I needed to get out, away. I needed a safe haven because mine had just been tainted. Like my stolen innocence.

When making life or death decisions, always double and triple check the information. Misinformation can kill you. And a side note: the Solaces were the top rung of the drug ladder. They had been for years. I don’t know how old they are now. But they were in charge. They had the final say in most anything. Always. They were powerful and wise and everyone respected them. Sure, there was an element of fear, but it was respect that commanded the legions.

And they knew it. They knew everything. They’d been around for ages.

If you really think about, what was there to know? Most of the survivors had been wiped out. Those still standing were beyond the touch of death, or at least, for now. They would die eventually though. Their reign would end and nothing would remain. The story that I got wasn’t the same as the one everyone else lived by. I knew that. But I had to deal with it. There was no other choice.

The idea was to fight. To the last.

There’s a “to the” for everything. Fight to the death. Or a “for the”. Stay for the duration.  An end for the beginning. A time for the madness. But there’s a great difference in the two ideas. The idea of staying for something means during. You’re staying for whatever you’re told to stay for. And after that happens, you’re done. But to stay “to the” means that you’re in it until the very end. You have to wait until that pivotal moment. Sure, they both sound the same and emphasize similar points, and it could be argued either way, but they do bring about different ideas in the mind. Just like certain sounds, places, images evoke a certain sense of something more. That’s the point in having so many words. They evoke certain emotions.

Emotions are supposed to be the basis for all human activity. You do what you do because of how it makes you feel. You act like a child when you hurt.You cry when you suffer. You break things and throw things - you become completely irrational. The loss of rationality is blamed on emotions. Emotions, which are summed up as a chemical balance, or unbalance in some cases.  So basically, your wiring is fucked up and you’re reduced to a toddler for a moment. Then the system comes back online and you’re just fine. And what’s more? You’re sorry for it. Our minds and bodies are engineered like computers. Hold on, the system’s crashed. It should be back momentarily. Hold on, just another minute more.

I keep waiting for my mind to reboot, for logic to sink in, sanity to return. It never happens. I blink my eyes and shake my head and I’m still here. As much as I want to throw things and carry on, I don’t do that either. It’s just...pointless. Why destroy what you have? You’ll have to clean it up when you come back down. And then the dilemma arises - what if you don’t come back down? What if you find a way to live in that world of toddler hatred? Would you be restricted by someone else or have you built your own theoretical crib? It’s all a theoretical. The entire world.

Haven’t you heard?

If you ask the right people, this is not real. None of it. It’s all a creation of my overactive imagination. The only thing that’s real...is me.

I believe the inverse.

Everything else here is real.

Except me.

What I am, well, what am I?

Creation of an overactive imagination? And if so, whose?

Maybe I am really dead. Maybe I’ve been dead for ages now. Maybe. Maybe. Who fucking cares? Fuck the maybes into the ground and then some. Everything is uncertainty. Why? Because we’re too lazy to think things through? Maybe. Fuck that. We are. There is no room for debate. Humanity does nothing for itself but make things worse. Pass more unnecessary laws. Enforce, rewrite and alter the rules. Nothing is definite except our own lack of definition. More people are depressed than ever. More people are suicidal than ever. Why? Emotions. Why? Chemicals.

Are we scientists or psychologists?

I mean, come on. Guys, get together, put everything out on the table, trade notes. Come up with one unified theory that makes any sort of sense. Okay? Is that too hard? I’ll make it simpler for you then, just a few short words.

Grow. The. Fuck. Up.

That’s the problem in this world. We’re all suffering some long dormant childhood trauma locked away in the deepest depths of our memories. We’re suffering from something we can’t remember. Am I the only one who thinks that’s the most crackpot theory in the world?

Hopefully somebody supports me.

Hope. Ha. That’s a joke.

A sick, twisted, joke.

Most things in life that we take so seriously are just sick, twisted, jokes. That’s just how it goes. You learn to deal or you don’t. Either way, you keep breathing. And you keep moving. Whether you realize it or not. It’s not a conscious effort most of the time. But you do it. Unless you kill yourself, and that’s another story. And that’s just a waste.

If all of the world is suffering, then why stay in it?

Because one person doesn’t comprise all of the world. One person can be happy without disrupting the entire order of things. Life’s not a game show. But it’s a hell of a gamble. There’s no consolation prize in this. You live it or you don’t. But if you give up now, you’ll never find out what’s behind door number three. And it could be a shiny new car. Or a cruise. Come on, hang in there, stay in the game. Hold on just a little bit longer. The audience is waiting for your decision. Come on. Take it. Hold on. You can do it. It’s not much more. It’s not that bad. And when all else fails, there’s always sleep. I mean, come on. There’s always worse, right?

And if it gets worse?

It can still get worse than that. Don’t be foolish. Come on. Please? Take the chance. Hold on a little bit longer. How much longer you ask?

You’ll know when it’s too long.

Don’t ask how. Just do it. Please?

Trust. Me.

And there’s a lot I can’t explain. Like about what I just said. You’ll just have to take my word for it. Please? There’s only so much I can handle.

And in terms of matters of devotion, I’m clueless.

You’ll have to ask the master and the mistress of the house.

This is where we started. The Solaces. Lord and Master. The ruling party to everything that went on. They were in control. They had command. Forward all questions of uncertainty to them. I’m not positive, but I doubt that they’ll have anything of great enlightenment for you either. But like I said, you’ll have to forward your concerns to them.

They’re the experts on devotion.