Black Cat Collection

Chapter 2 : Ataraxia

Human life is pretty peculiar yet generic. We live to find our satisfaction only to lose it all in the end. Some wish to be immortal because they wish not to lose all earthly possessions they could have. Well, I cannot blame them. Death is cold. Death is cruel. Death is also hopeless. We do not know what afterlife brings us. Because nobody ever lived to tell the tale after death.

Once, I belonged to normality. I, too, wished to meet my satisfaction and my end. Yet, it was all taken away from me when I was just exposed to the harsh nature of reality. I lost my will to meet the fake happiness. Well, some say ignorance is a bliss. They are not entirely wrong. Knowing too much can bring potential danger. Sometimes it can make a person accept the despair they are truly living in. As my heart was corrupted by the truth, I pondered where I could have gone wrong. I could not find the answer in the void which lied ahead of me.

The Oblivion. Some say it is the true hell of this universe. I have anticipated the truth which told me that I am naught but a character written by a certain author. Unfortunately, it was a truth which could never escape my lips in a normal scenario. Others may call me insane, but was there any way to prove me wrong? It is just a philosophy which I have found more reliable. Whoever the author is, they just wished to see us characters struggle in our life to make a masterpiece out of it. In the end, we were just tools of entertainment. When we become useless, they would throw us into oblivion, whether it is spiritually or mentally.

...

A decade has passed. A century has passed. Yet, I lived. Since I have acknowledged the truth, my life as a human has ended. I wander around the sea of humans while being unnoticed. I was once a simple writer, who wrote out of passion. Now, I am an author. I write about human life. I leave hints about the truth I have found in my writings, hoping to find someone who would acknowledge it, too, and end my nigh eternal life.

I waited. I waited for that person who would put me into my demise. Literally, I have not met him yet. However, my heart waited for him, knowing that someday my own tale would be completed. As I waited for him, I gave life to many with ink. Yes, I believed that writing fiction is like giving life to foreign concepts which could somehow reach the heart of the readers. Even if there is a wall between the character and the reader, they would still be related. In a sense, I believe the ink formed their shape. I believe their blood is as black as ink.

When I live in the present, giving life to many, I still remember the dream which showed me the truth and changed my life to this. The curse that вгаск сат brought upon me was immense, but it was my fault to accept its offering. I have lived in a black and white world where I have found no hope. The hardship of life and the nonexistence of happiness made me realise that happiness is naught but a choice. If I wish to be happy, it would be my choice to accept the ignorance and live with it. Yet, I could not. I was more of a realist. I have seen the hell of earth. It was not oblivion, but something different. The fear of death drove everyone into insanity. Yet, here I was, waiting for my death while trying to be alive only to publish my novels because I loved every single character I have written, Right. I have never seen my characters as characters. I have seen them as individuals, living in a parallel reality.

Some day. I would join them, too.

...

After a thousand years, I have finished writing the tale which could conclude this entire lore I have created. At last, I am free from the last bit of earthly attachment I had. I could say that my deed is done. Now, I am just a free soul wandering in the world under the pen name I formed when I started writing. Right. I have never shown my true face to the audience. Being ominous sounded cooler, so I flowed with the trend. Seeing them making assumptions of my true personality and appearance is fun I admit. Some compared me with the Gods. Some compared me with various anomalies. Some called me a mage. Some said I was a vampire. Seeing their conflict about my identity added some satisfaction about my work. Now that I have reached my satisfaction, how boring will infinity be?

That thought alone terrified me. Yes, I have anticipated it. Immortality is not a good idea as many think. Screw my curse. All I have wished for is publishing my passionate work and dying shortly after that.

Now that I have formed my reaper, will he free from this black and white world?

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-- And so, I spoke to the manuscript which could bring the demise of my current existence.

"Аиеіяіи Ет Амаяаитніие, this is the name I am giving you now. As you can see, I have given up on my life, my existence, my identity, my wishes and my consciousness. From now on, these all belong to you. Shape yourself. Henceforth, I shall be one with the unknown which goes beyond everyone's understanding. I was an anomaly to begin with. This black and white world is not my habitat. There has been nothing for me to linger on to survive this prolonged life in here except the basis of your existence. I am assured of your intellectuality. I am well aware of the fact that you are not someone who only sees the worst of everything. As much as hopeless this world is, I am sure that you are not blinded by the delusion of despair. After all, you are capable of understanding my heart and how I perceive this world. Welcome, my dear guest. Make this place your home and free me from this simulation."

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