Remorse...

It is quite an unusual occurrence, for me to be emotionally stressed. I am far more accustomed to going around feeling pleasantly blank… numb. I usually perceive my surroundings with a detachment more commonly found in stranded sailors, facing death on a deserted island. And that is how I see the world around me… deserted.

Empty of people… at least people who actually matter, the world I live in is barren… but pleasantly so.

I usually feel calm… I usually experience nothing more than a passing loneliness even at the worst of times. And even that rare change is almost… welcome as a break from the monotonous logic. The logic, which is the only governing factor that helps me navigate the treacherous ruins of a desolate world.

I like it that way… I like being by myself.

I like being alone with my thoughts… just thoughts… not feelings. I don’t really have many of those left. And I am proud of the fact.

It’s fairly simple and straightforward to wake up every morning… and put on an ordinary face, stolen from a boy now two years dead. Just like putting on clothes… except… that my face is always my camouflage.

It’s fairly simple… to walk out into the rain each day… and spend a few minutes imagining the falling droplets to be persons. Easy to pretend to be one of them… until they fall and disappear. Temporary things the drops… just like the pseudo bonds of friends and family that everyone pretends are real.

It’s simple, to pretend to be a part of the temporary companions… all the while knowing that they’ll be here today and gone tomorrow. Inside, I always know… that the world is empty.

I like not feeling anything… anymore. I don’t feel anger or hate. I don’t experience fear or sorrow. It has been a long time since I last felt desire or affection. Only now… after what seems like ages I feel something that has never been a part of me… even before my transformation.

I feel the steady, ceaseless pangs of… remorse.

Not regret… I still obtain satisfaction from the gray and white existence that I lead. I harbor no wish that… things might have gone differently. I don’t hope that my alter ego… who I murdered two years ago… returns to take control of me.

Sarcasm was always my most major character trait… and also a prime factor that caused the change. It was also the thing, which made its masking possible. Being cynical… no, by being a cynic… I had my eyes opened… in the now distant past. And I knew… in that solemn moment of awakening, what I needed to do. I did it… and I haven’t looked back since… up until now.

Cynicism made realization dawn… realization brought about execution of things that had to be done. The execution caused the transformation… which was masked by my Sarcasm... revealing me to the dead world for the Cynic I used to be. A perfect circle....

Except for two people… no one was even aware of the secret murder. No one else had any idea of what had changed… and I hid it from them. Covering it up so well… that it became second nature… but never the first. Hiding was easy… because temporary encounters in the huge random ocean of the world would never dig too deep to uncover a stranger’s loss… thankfully.

The remorse… is for an entirely non-personal reason.

Back when my world was still… populated… it had flashes of color, each unique in their own dazzling beauty. Most were to be perceived from a distance… a few would swirl close to me in their enigmatic dance… only a handful would ever reach me.

I guess… to them I had been a similar spark too. I assume that seen from the outside… my present color is the gray of absence… or black of decay.

When I had snuffed out my glow… having no other choice, I should have been mindful of collateral damage.

The one spark that had wandered dangerously close to me at the time… had been caught in the shock wave. And it got mutated too.

Not dead… as my own self destruction had rendered me… but crippled. Missing a chunk of its former hues… marked. Freshly brought into the world of the undead… I hadn’t stopped to notice it still hovering… hoping for a cure. I could have… no should have provided… the balm to soothe its agony.

The Brownian motion of the tiny enclosed world ran me past that spark again today… unexpectedly. It was different from the rest… standing out because of its brush with… my implosion. Hence easy to spot… and watch flee, from the neighborhood of its tragedy.

I should have taken some precautions… sent away all sentient, damageable creatures before my… metamorphosis. Now… it’s too late. And while I am glad that the damage isn’t worse… as it could well have been, I am filled with remorse that there is damage at all.

Only one was affected… apart from me. The sparks around me had begun to move… I had already begun to spiral inwards on the collision course with my ultimate state. A silent drifter in a desolate world… blessed with the freedom from attachments and feelings.

Two years into my voyage… a chance meeting with the only damaged witness of the change… of the evolution, brings me the first true shred of genuine emotion… repentance.

With no way to make amends… and no power to heal the old wounds… I have to carry on along the path I have decided to follow. For the hurt that I unwittingly caused to one merely caught in the event… I have nothing to express but… remorse.