A Tale of Him and Her - Part 1

She had no identity and he had too many.

They met by what they believed was chance’s manipulation, on the day marking the apex of their individual frustrations with the lives they’d been leading for more years than they cared to count. With everyday that passed for those years to grow, life’s value became synonymous with a deeper low

She’d gotten lost while taking a pensive stroll and he’d been late for a meeting at the workplace he hated so, when their distractedness caused them to collide. Several awkward apologies and a few embarrassed smiles later, over poring over finance papers he chose to view something of a lovelier kind; while she agreed to engage in something other than arguing with the sadists in her mind.

They agreed to have a conversation. 
And everything that followed, would somehow change them

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She had no courage and he had no conscience.

Her ego had been methodically floored since all she was ever shown were her exaggerated flaws. No effort made sense and every achievement was worthless, viewed through the prism of perceived insignificance. The only smiles she ever saw were on the television, and the only warmth she ever felt was by the stove in the kitchen. She longed to give speech to her distress but when no one would listen, her hopes for rescue grew less.

She had no haven, believed in no heaven. Perhaps the pain would be easier to bear if it was localized within her mind; but it exceeded that territory and leaped onto her physical being every time she was battered with whatever either of them could find.

Today the man would be the attacker; tomorrow it could be the man’s partner. As it was, they sought to teach their human extensions how to express their evil better. There was nothing to be said, there was nothing that could be done. The blood she’d lost had stamped her rejection as final, so there was also nowhere to run…

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His responsibilities were numerous; his resentments enabled his shoulders magnetize frost. He was grown before he’d been certain he was living, and his future decided before his debut wailing. Hopes and dreams weren’t his to fondle, and weaknesses or rest were rights of only the ignorant or idle. Obviously he was neither - as confirmed by his wealth and influence – so to hell with being human; preferences, rest, intimacy, and every other such nonsense.

Although he’d acquired plenty, he didn’t own much. He had no right to personal purposes or dreams, so his life could hardly be used to achieve the likes of such. All the living who filled his space - and whom he considered tragic wastes of it - often stressed this point on. ‘All’ referred to each individual who’d willingly paid to rob him of moments past and those to come. ‘All’ being a number of pompous potbellies whose loss he’d never mourn. However, for the joy of manipulating, he learned to become all things to all men; if he were going to be so inconsiderately abused, he’d have to return the favor to them.

He geared himself to run on empty. The void was his engine and his existence became an uninspiring contraption. All the ground covered he’d never once considered progress, and each step up the rungs of the social ladder, took him farther from his hopes of ever belonging to a reality that was slightly better. Therefore, he chose to personify unpleasant; brutal, unscrupulous, unforgiving, and unrepentant. But in all honesty, his ruthlessness was a mere façade beneath which lay hidden, an aching loneliness.

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She was true, and his heart sung.

He sat right there, waiting for her to prove his convictions wrong. But she failed him. He tried furiously to taint all he was witnessing with even a drop of negativity but even that wasn’t working. The almost unrealistic inexperience she possessed left him in wonder and he struggled to believe that for the entire period of their engagement, she’d eagerly bought every account he’d sold her; not once considering he may just be a pathological liar. Starved so severely of everything akin to humanity was she that any random expression of its characteristics would suffice to fill the gap she was missing. Including words from people like him.

It was pathetic to watch.

The fact that the only thing familiar to her was pain also angered him very much. With no filter to her personality, she made the perfect picture of kindness. In every expression, gesticulation, and from the emotions she wore on her sleeve, he observed in shock self-worship’s absence. So although every so often he’d glance at his wristwatch, the whole time he was only dreading the moment this interaction would be rounded up. Because the moment they parted ways, his first experience of breathing would quickly become a memory. In less time than there is in an instant, he’d resume drowning. Drowning in his hate, hating to drown the hurt; and with the addition of these waves of feeling washing over him suddenly, well the drowning was likely to be worse. But the worst feeling nagging the heart he’d just become aware of was that he couldn’t immediately end all her suffering; and shortly cruelty would wear off the light that danced in her eyes after their second cup of coffee.

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To be continued...

xxxx, Kwiksie.

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