All my life, I was taught to toe the line, to be a passive observer, without ever considering anything that appeared risky. When you look at it from a parent’s perspective, it’s a fear of safety that drives them. But what is it I actually fear? It’s only another human life and despite what happens, the world will move on no matter what. But it’s that fear of being alone that dominates my will and I’m left helplessly following in its wake. I had to be aware of all times what I said, for people like to take advantage to meet their own ends, as if they did not fear being alone. But as logic evolved, and my empathy grew stronger, I realized that each one had their own way of dealing with that fear and if I were to deny it, I would be denying their very reason for existence. It was better if I had my voice drowned out, my presence faded, if only it would render some form of recognition. What I never realized was that it was taking away my power to interact with society, with my kin, and rather than loneliness, it was human connection I began fearing the most!
I don’t know how long has it been since the real me has been talking to anyone. It feels as though the world around me requires just a set of hardwired, automated responses to be content. There is no passion, nor the will to dream, just the bland continuity of existence. It is as if I am the only living soul out there trying to make sense of a collection of walking machines busy chasing bits of paper so they can feel fulfilled with false riches. As if I was the only one who could not accept the trivialities of this materialistic religion and the basic pointlessness of the rituals that are involved. In all my isolation and endless hoarding of secrets and sadness in the recesses of my mind, I realized a bit too late, that I had built a wall between me and the outside world. That I was living all these years as a passive observer – exactly what I did not sign up for. I thought of walking the plank, but even the finality scared me. The guilt of leaving everything unfinished, without even trying, blaming the world for something that everyone but me could do, it was all part of what stopped me taking the final step. I felt like an anomaly in this life, without anything that tallied with the people that grew up around me.
As of now, I have people I meet, and people I talk to, and people who know me. But it’s just an empty crowd that holds no emotional fulfilment and my interaction, it seems, is only to the minimum that will allow me to be a part of that crowd. I’m living in a state of perpetual fear of the world outside, with no one who knows me, no one who wants to know me, and no way for me to reach out either. All that’s left is acceptance, that I will exist simply in fear of people, yet constantly searching for a real, heartfelt bond in vain, and disappear when my time comes with nothing in my legacy to inspire even a single one of these machines to be a better person.
The greatest fear is always that of a lonesome journey. It is what drives us to create, to imagine, to show our prowess to our kin in hopes that they acknowledge your presence, so that you interact, and you don’t have to feel this alone all the time. Society compels us to conform and yet in our blind, half-baked attempts we drive each other away. All it takes is a little empathy to understand where the other person is coming from and you realize you’re better off taking the punches rather than discarding their importance. All for the sake of just one objective – to not feel alone. I have resigned myself to live in this solitary existence with a staunch refusal to feel any emotion lest it opens the cork to all that sadness I’ve bottled up inside. I guess my purpose from now will be to imitate these physically evolved primates the best I can in hopes I find some solace away from all this loneliness. They might have my physical company, but I fear, I’m going to be alone for the rest of my wretched life.