Empty.
It was a tireless mantra I couldn’t stop repeating. A word stuck on repeat in my head like a scratched record that skips. It crawled its way into every groove of my mind and crept into every last ounce of dopamine and serotonin left within my body’s central computer. Now, I was nothing more than a clumsy machine, completing tasks on incomplete commands and severed nerve endings. I couldn’t concentrate, let alone allow myself the basic ability of thought. No, I was a blank slate with a brand new hard drive, wiped clean and rewired and reprogrammed over a tedious stretch of time. There was no more past to reflect upon, no more complicated web of emotions to disentangle and analyze. I was visionless, numb to the present, and blind to what time may bring.
I suppose it was rather nice, being able to wear an armor of heavy steel. After all, steel was impenetrable. No more cracks or fractures or nasty viruses that snuck around on hushed voices that dripped with contempt and vicious judgment. It was certain protection, a much-needed gift I accepted with heavy yet welcome arms. I cut off from every happening in life, from every word exchanged, every feeling provoked. There was no emotion within my hollowed shell, like the rind of a fruit with no sweet flesh or seed to bear once peeled away. Some might be disgusted and horrified at such a notion, but I would most certainly beg to differ. For when there is no fruit to tend to, then there is no need to worry or care of preserving its life. Death is simply a peaceful perception, sometimes even a comforting friend. It’s always there, directly beside me, waiting to take me as it has taken so many, many others.
When the day comes that Death finally decides to call for such a rendezvous, I will not tremble or try to run from the clutches of its shadow. Instead, I will tenderly reach out and receive its bony hand as a woman and man would join hands at the foot of an altar on their day of spiritual unity. Then, Death will lead me away, and I shall follow it into the eternal sea of darkness, fearing not being forgotten but instead rejoicing that I could finally forget myself.
At long last, I would be relieved of this pitiful playhouse, where puppets dance limply on their masters’ strings, unable to think for themselves and too careless to even try. Once, a long, long time ago, my wrists had bore their own bracelets of fine string, and I would dance the dance and act the act of someone else’s script. Show after show, I would play my part, would put on the performance I was commanded to give. One day, though, when the curtain opened, I found that I could no longer rise, even when the strings attached to my wrists beckoned me to do so. Yet regardless of the persistent prodding, I still could not move, could not pick up the heavy head that fell limply toward my chest.
I suppose it was then that I underwent my metamorphosis, where I was unraveled and then stitched back together, laden with plates of metal that would forever replace weak, delicate skin that had been beaten and battered and bruised and scarred. It was then that the dopamine and serotonin stopped flowing. Yes, I recall now, even if it is ever faintly, that it was then when the slate had been wiped clean. I was no longer tainted or stained with sin, manipulated by burdens I was forced to carry for others. No, I had been broken down, and then rebuilt, with new wires, new programs, and new buttons for a new type of operation. Emotions became foreign, contemplations became impossible. There was no need for petty questions or the crude lure of innocuous imagination, for thought required feelings, and feelings had escaped me.
I didn’t mind the remodel, nor did I attempt to undo the changes that had become me. It was easier to accept that I lived on a network of hardware rather than a cracked foundation overwhelmed with turmoil and complication. I was stronger, improved, and unbreakable. I was the word that kept whispering in my ear, swimming circles in my head on the same old broken track. For it was that simple one-word mantra that had molded and shaped me into who I am, saving me from the fate I was sure to have suffered. It was my oxygen, my only sustenance, and without it I surely know I could not survive. One word, just one word, and that was all it took for me to lose myself forever.