deep into the abyss | #10

he sat on the couch, trying his best not to let his eyes wander to a screen of any sort. he wanted a break. he wanted a break from all the staring and consumption from technology. so he sat and stared. cross-legged on the couch and eyes fixated on the ceiling, it hit him.

for as long as he could remember, he was shutting everyone and everything out. he didn’t want to get too comfortable with anything, or get too close to anyone. he withdrew himself as far as possible, allowing him to see everything from afar.

you could say that was what fueled his writing, being that far away from everything that he was able to see it all in perspective. but ever since he started this journey of detachment, he was also subconsciously building up a wall. he was building a wall made with bricks covered in cement and reinforced with steel.

and every time he removed himself from someone or something, he added a brick to his wall.

he argued with his mind to convince himself that it was a system that worked. it was efficient and reliable. in exchange for social detachment, he would get a supply of inspiration to write. and both parties held up their end of the deal without any complications.

much like hidden costs, this system cost him something he wasn’t aware too. he realised that the side effect of the system was that gradually, he was losing touch with emotional cues. his ability to offer and receive emotional response was deteriorating. he had lost his ability to identify emotions, acting only based on what everyone else was acting.

but his writing improved. he was able to feed off his endless supply of inspiration and transform them into pieces of fiction.

he wondered if all he ever wrote were just fragments of his life, and if his entire life was just a work of fiction.

after all, it was him who wanted this, right? he was the one who wanted to observe from afar, refusing to participate. he was the one who took the deal, who was naïve enough to think that it wasn’t too good to be true. he was the one who wanted what he knew as isolation. and now he has got it. everything he has ever wanted.

a tear rolled down his cheeks. the first in a long, long time.

he wiped it away with his fingers and laid down on his bed. sleep, i don’t have the time for this. not now.

and he shut his eyes for the night.

#10 – il y aura des jours meilleurs.