They take it all for granted. How I envy them. If only I could have a glimpse of what their lives are like. Having a family. Having friends. Having love. They take it all for granted.
During my 3 years here in Denver, I listened to a lot of conversations. It taught me a lot about life, all of the little things I was never privileged to. They had so much, but they rarely saw it that way. When you would run into them on the street, most of them smiled. They laugh. But after you listen to their private conversations, you learn most of them are not happy at all. It's all a facade. Most of them have so much, but they never appreciate it. If I had only one friend, one person to talk to! They have so many, and they spit on it all, constantly bitching about their miserable lives.
The fact that they had so much made me envy them, but the fact that they never saw it just made me plain angry. I was completely alone in a city of more than half a million people. Not a soul to talk to, to listen to. I was dead inside, and all I could do was cry until the tears ran out. But I always managed to hold on to my sanity... until now.
I lost everything. I lost even the pitiful life I had managed to survive through all of these years. I lost my freedom, and I lost the only material possession that ever mattered to me. I thought the last vestiges of my sanity were leaving with it.
I must have been out for a whole day, because when I woke up, it was night again. A cat was chewing on one of my fingers. I got up and looked around me, very disoriented at first. It was so dark. My hand instinctively reached for my neck, frantically searching, trying to assure me that yesterday was just a bad dream. But it was gone. I lost it.
I went out into the street, letting a few loose strands of hair cover my eyes. I didn't want anyone to see me. They'd be searching for me. They would find me and scream at me and call me a freak. They would take me and lock me up forever. I would never see the sun again. Maybe I don't deserve to. Maybe I should just let them lock me up in a dark cell, where I belong. My heart was racing so fast; it was all I could hear.
I started walking. I knew it was stupid, but I had to get it back. It's the last thing I'll ever ask of this life. And then, it can do what it wants with me. Just please let me have it back.
The human touch - is there anything more beautiful? Just to have someone hold your hand. Sometimes I dream, and in my dream, a beautiful boy walks over to me. He doesn't talk. He only smiles. He gives me his right hand, and I hesitantly take it. The touch is electrifying. That simple, holy touch.
I hold his hand more tightly, as he starts walking towards a lake. The sun is so bright in the sky, and the light reflecting from the lake almost blinds me. He then brings my hand to his lips, and kisses it so gently. I feel a tear falling down, then two.
He now holds my hand with both of his, afraid to let go. But then the sun begins to disappear. My hand suddenly feels so cold, and when I look back to that beautiful boy, I see there is nothing left of him but his shoe tracks in the sand. The air around me begins to grow ever so cold. I begin to shiver. I close my eyes, the void once again consuming my soul. I will always be alone, it tells me. I am not worthy of another human being's love. I am a freak and need to be dealt with accordingly.
The waves from the lake hit my ankles. Soon, the darkness is all over me, enveloping me completely. All I can do is concentrate on that one magical touch... that beautiful feeling. That's the only thing keeping me from becoming one with the darkness, and disappearing forever.
Lately, it has become harder and harder to remember that touch. As the days go by, the dream gets darker and darker. One day, I know, it will devour me.
I'm here. I looked around me, so scared I swear I wet my pants. I walked slowly towards the parking lot, so slow in fact, that it almost seemed as if I was walking backwards. I crouched on the ground, carefully searching for my only ray of hope in this horrible existence. But it wasn't there. It wasn't there! I collapsed on the cold concrete, crying hysterically like a little boy. I had lost everything.
It was so soft, so gentle. I never thought it possible. A hand was placed on my right shoulder, shaking. This was it. They found me. Might as well. I have nothing left. I slowly lifted my head, my coal black hair covering my eyes, and looked up at my would be captor. His eyes were so beautiful, so green. A single tear escaped them when I looked at him. It was the man from yesterday, the one I saved. No doubt, he was accompanied by a platoon of angry people with torches and pitchforks, all waiting to take their stab at the horrible beast. I sat up on my knees, my head to the floor.
"Just do it already," I told him.
"What?" he asked me in that still trembling voice. The expression on his face was that of a little boy thinking his parents were mad at him.
"Just do it! Get it over with!"
"What are you talking about, man?" he said with a shaky voice, sobs escaping in between the words.
"I know why you're here! Okay!? There's no need to play games. I'll come willingly, there's no need to use force." Yes, I was strong. But I had no doubt I could be contained with the proper tools when the time came. The man's mouth opened slightly, as he looked at me with pleading eyes. And then he did the unthinkable. The thing that almost killed me right there on the spot. He hugged me.
I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I could only hear his quiet sobs as he stretched his hands around my back, burying his head in my neck. This was not happening. This is a trick! He's making fun of me! But I couldn't move. I didn't care if it was all a big joke. He was so warm. He smelled so goddamn good! And then I felt my hands taking on a will of their own, and moving to reciprocate his embrace. I held on to him like I never held on to anything before.
We stayed like that for at least 5 minutes. Not a word was uttered. The only noise was the sound of our breaths and our quiet sobs. I'd never felt better in my entire life. In fact, I'd never felt anything even close to it. For the first time, I felt alive. I existed!
"Who are you?" I managed to say after what seemed like an eternity of pure bliss. He looked me in the eyes. Those godlike eyes.
"I'm Christian" he told me. "And I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you." He started crying again.
"You're alone?" I asked with amazement.
"Of course I'm alone!" he said a bit bitterly, but his gratitude never faded from his eyes. I didn't know what to say, how to respond. Nothing in my life ever prepared me for this.
"You're not afraid of me?" I asked him. He didn't answer. Instead, he hugged me again, this time with even more force than before, if that was possible. And I hugged him back. A little too much.
I will never forget that scream either. I hurt him. I hurt the only living soul that gave a damn about me. I got up in a hurry and watched him as he curled up on the ground, crying.
"Oh my god! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I was terrified. What have I done? Did I break anything? He couldn't respond. He was in too much pain. Pain I caused him!
I couldn't stay there. I ran. Like the coward I was. I did, however, call 911 a few blocks from there.
I found a small alley to my left, and started banging my head against the wall repeatedly. I wanted to bleed so much! Just let me fucking bleed! But no blood ever came out. No amount of force was sufficient to puncture my impenetrable skin.
And this time – I screamed. I screamed with everything I had. I screamed so loud I think they heard me in neighboring states. The pain was so awful. I couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Jesus, shut the fuck up, man!" I heard a voice from behind me. I spun around and saw a young woman, about 20 I think, sitting down next to me in the alley. She was obviously a junkie, and this was her place to get high for the night. I plopped down next to her, exhausted, sobbing quietly to myself.
"Who the fuck said you can sit down?!" she barked.
"Fuck you!" There it is. I said it. I think it's the first time I ever used that word. She turned her head back to stare at the brick wall across from her.
"If you thing you're getting any of my stash, think again." She said angrily.
"I don't want your fucking stash! I don't want anything from you." I said with my head buried in the small circle my hands created with my legs. After about 5 minutes of silence, I finally spoke.
"I think I really hurt someone." My head never left the comfort of the circle.
"And for some reason, you think I care? Cute." She said with a sarcastic smile. But I ignored her.
"Maybe he's dead. Maybe I killed him." It didn't matter that she didn't care. She was hearing me. That's all that mattered. I existed for her.
"Don't do the crime if you can't deal with the aftershock. That's what my father always told me" she said.
"I didn't mean to. It was an accident!"
"Of course it was. You're completely innocent; I can see the fucking halo on your head. Now shut the fuck up!"
"Do you think he's dead?"
"How the fuck am I supposed to know?!" she barked at me again.
"You have a life. Why do you spend it here?" I asked her.
"What are you, a fucking guidance counselor?"
"You probably have a mom and a dad, friends. Yet you spend your nights getting high in a fucking alley." I was really getting used to that word.
"Well, the way I see it, pretty boy, is that I'm fucking smiling and you're fucking crying. So you're not really in any position to give me advice." She was right. She was smiling. She was high. If I thought for a second that the full syringe next to her would penetrate my skin, I probably would have taken it.
"That's only because you're high." I said. "As soon as it's gone you won't be smiling so much."
"That's what the other syringe is for, you little fucker." She said with a smile. "And you're not fucking getting it!"
"I'd do anything to have your life."
"You don't know a fucking thing about my life you cock sucker!" she barked again.
"I know you have one." I said quietly.
"Fuck you, Adam!" she said as she got up and walked away, her "stash" in her hands. I sat there quietly for a few minutes before it hit me. How did she know my name? I sat there until the sun started to rise, its beautiful rays casting their warmth on my skin. It seemed to be the only thing that could penetrate it.
"Hey" I heard a voice from above me. The sun was directly in my eyes, and I couldn't see the figure standing there above me. Then he bent down and sat next to me.
It was Christian! My eyes opened wide in amazement, and my mouth almost dropped to the ground.
"Christian?" I asked in a shaky voice. He looked at me and smiled.
"I'm okay. See?" and he spread his hands to show me how he could move them freely.
"I thought... I ..." I started saying, but couldn't go on. The tears came back.
"You didn't. Nothing's broken." He said flatly. "I don't know what I'm doing here." I looked up into his eyes, but he didn't meet my gaze.
"I can't stay here. I can't be near you!" he said as he got up. I knew this would happen. I expected it to. Then why did it hurt so much? He walked away running, never looking back. I used my last ounce of strength to get up myself.
I was hungry. I hadn't eaten in two days, and my groceries were gone now. I don't even remember where I left them. I went back home. Thomas greeted me again, and wondered where I've been. I went up to my apartment on the thirteenth floor and slumped down on my bed.
The shadows of the trees once again danced on my wall. It will start snowing soon. And everything will be white. I loved the snow. It gave me the feeling I can blend in with everyone else, and no one will ever notice me. The snow will cover it all, cover me.
I got up and went to the kitchen for the only food I knew I needed now. I took a bottle of scotch from one of the drawers. At least this will bring me some peace... even if for a short while.
I didn't feel the hands on the back of my neck until it was too late. I felt like my very soul was being forced out of my body. I lost all feeling, and my sight began to blur. I was dying. I was dying, and I would never know who my killer is. I would never be able to thank him.
My last thought in this life was of John. The only person who ever treated me as an equal. The only person who truly liked me, maybe even loved me. But love is not meant for creatures like me. Love is reserved for people, not monsters. I just hope the rules of the afterlife are different.
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