Quest of Nullity

Introduction

Darkness surrounded my mind as I sat through the agonizing ritual referred to nowadays as waiting. This is never something I willingly did, just something I’ve grown used to doing over the spread out chaos known as My Life. I have learned to block out the expanding spaces of time and watch as the people around me seem to speed up, like people in films from the silent film era. Someone tries speaking to me, but all I hear is distant muffling, as though they were calling back at me through a vast reach of unsubstantial phonebooths of a distant galaxy that has of yet not been discovered. I look up and nod, though unaware of what they had said. But they seem satisfied enough and they move on. This, in turn, satisfies me. Now I can go back to my nonexistent timewarp mode that I have become so fond of.

Looking back, I begin to wonder how I ever could have made it to this point in My Life (a term I still don’t fully comprehend), and why I have been permitted to continue in my quest of nullity. After many countless years, for I forget now how many it’s been, I have still not accomplished much of anything which could be even remotely considered prestigious or ethically decorous.

Why, then, must I go about from day unto day pretending to be getting anything out of this pitiful existence? For I know that while I sit here all solitary and discharged from Planet Earth, he is still out there, appearing to all around him to be benign, while in truth he is a enigmatical fiend who needs to be brought down.

I know he still watches me from a great distance. Although I have no real evidence to back this up, I just feel it. I am never wrong with these feelings of mine. Stronger and stronger they become until I have no choice but to turn around and face the reality that I will never truly be free again, as I once was before this all started. So long ago that was. Was I really free once? Yes I was, hard, though, it is to believe. Lost is the time ago these things happened. How old have I reached? I would simply have to ask someone the year and I would instantly know, yet I cannot do such a thing. What if it has only been a year, and everything that has happened to me has only been smashed into such a small space of time. It is possible to live an entire lifetime in a year. Then there is the other side of the fortune cookie. What if it has been fifty years? That would mean I am seventy. I don’t feel seventy. Of course, how exactly would one know what seventy feels like if one has never been seventy before? I know I am not twenty anymore, of that much I am certain. I had just turned twenty when he stopped my aging. Oh, I aged. Just not really.