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So, the whole aquarium thing didn't go as planned. I had more or less known it wouldn't work as soon as I had walked out of the store. It took a lot of self control to not want to take a handful of bright pink hair back home with me as a souvenir. It's not to say that I didn't make any gold because that would be a blatant lie. There was certainly a good amount of spare pocket change that I had from people browsing my well manicured aquarium. But I found the task of feeding the fish to be rather dull. (There is also my absolute fear of water. I really should cut back on my impulsive purchases.)
The more I've thought about it in those rare moments that I give myself to think about various subjects not pertaining to my immediate or scheduled life, the more I've realized that I've had a lot of things wrong. It really isn't about being HUMAN at all, it's just about feeling alive. I can buy all the plants and fish that I want but it won't make me more human. If anything it will make me feel less alive, knowing that I could never be alive in an average way ever again. I've tasted humanity, lost it and gained it back momentarily. I will always want what I cannot have even though I know I truly do not want it. And that in itself proved to me that I was indeed alive and a member of the Gaian race.
So once all of my fish became floaters, I said my prayers as I flushed them. Instead of letting the old fish bowl and food collect dust and take up space I tossed the food and priced the bowl to be sold down in The Pit Stop. Unless Professor Varnham invented waterless mechanical fish sometime in the future I would not be finding a use for the bowl any time soon.
What I needed was something that made me happy, something I enjoyed; being human wasn't all about what you looked like but knowing your time was finite and that you had to enjoy it while it lasted. Looking around my flat with a scrutinizing gaze I tried to find something that sparked happiness out of me.
The first thing that caught my attention was my unmade bed and a conflicting pair of emotions flickered through me. I'll be the first to say that having a mechanical heart doesn't mean it hurts less when it breaks. In almost every other aspect of my life I had managed to keep structured and unaffected by the split. The moment I stepped into my apartment however was where the damage could be seen. The Aekean Journal was still open to the comics on the kitchen table. White's sticky notes filled with absurd reminders covered my desk. But worst of all was the unmade bed. The bed we shared for almost a year and used for a various amount of purposes. I could never tidy it up before work because White used to always sleep longer than me; I could never tidy it up after work because White used to already be in the bed waiting for me. And I couldn't get myself to tidy it after he left because it meant that he was gone.
The break up wasn't violent or one sided. One day we both realized that we weren't happy with who we were, that our relationship hadn't evolved with our individual growth. We loved each other and because of that we knew that we had to go different ways. As much as we wished there was another way it was for the best. Sometime in the future, once White and I figure ourselves out, there could be a chance for us. For now, the two of us had agreed to go our own separate ways. To do what was best for ourselves.
Following my own train of thought as I forced myself to make the bed, smoothing out every visible wrinkle as I tucked and folded the sheets into place. There were long pauses between each motion where I let my mind drift to purposefully delay myself. I'd hear White's teasing tone in the back of my head, see his confused childlike expressions, feel his arms around me....
Retro's clanky whimpers brought me out of my daze, where I found myself clutching White's pillow to my chest. The bed was otherwise perfect, without a wrinkle to be seen. My best friend looked worried, and with ample reason. Crouching down, I patted his head and told him with a smile in my voice, "It's all right Retro, we'll be back to normal in no time." Only then did his tail begin to wag, crashing to the floor with a metallic boom each time.
That night I picked up the notes off my desk, folded the outdated newspaper, took White's pillow and threw them all into the dumpster. But I couldn't bring myself to sleep in my bed, knowing that I would have to re-make it in the morning. Baby steps, I told myself as I curled up to Retro on the couch. Baby steps.
 PQ and Retrostacja · Wed Jul 25, 2012 @ 10:43pm · 0 Comments |
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