My Eternal Mind

Cassandra Mazza

My Eternal Mind

I have isolated myself from my friends, my family, and from life. I have had no death in my wake, no event in my time that would have justified my being thrust into such seclusion: I, in my mind, have ceased to see things in the ways I have in the past, and this frightens me. When I look into the eyes of my former friends, I see a kindness, but not a geniality, intelligence, but not wisdom, a banal way of thinking, not originality. Tired was I of feeling like I drifted so high above these people, like, by some unwanted curse, I had been given knowledge of their true natures that they knew not of themselves. The ever-present feeling of pity I held for them, and for myself, I loathed; pity is the weakest form of remorse. Yet, this is what consumed me, for I knew, after such a discovery as I had found inside myself, my life, and how I viewed the people in it, could never be the same again.

It was not long after spring had come that I had felt this itch for purgery. With the changing season brought the smiling faces of new-found love and an ache within my heart as I watched groups of friends knitted so closely in amity that each individual was scarcely distinguishable. Certainly, the companions I possessed were enough! But no, I did not feel this sense of kinship amongst my peers; though they flocked to me, I did not feel their essences plant themselves within my heart. I longed for the knee-weakening grip of true friendship; I sought it passionately, yet not once did it appear. I repelled the friends who could not fulfil me so; their cup of human connection from which I thirstily drank never satiated me. I shook their wiry roots from the barren soil of my drying heart. Like weeds I shed them, and to my disgust I felt no repentance to their absence. I was an unfeeling monster; these people that had been to me the sunshine of my existence now meant nothing to me. Yet now it was too late to return along the path that I had carved, so onwards I continued, until nothing was left to me but those who would always be mine: My parents. To me they seemed the only genuine people on Earth, and for that I clung to them. I feared that I would soon grow to hate them too, for to hate my makers would be, I knew, to hate my deepest self. Their perfection being my only solace, I resolved to preserve it, and in doing so I began to see my parents less and less. To me their love was like the most beautiful blossom: Sweet and lovely, yet perishable, delicate, its beauty waning with each time I touched it. But, reader, you ask, what made me, so kind and well-liked, innocent and accomplished, revert to this state of bestiality? Yet that is exactly it, reader! Ever so magnetic my personality, so welcomed by my fellow man, forever wrapped in the loving embrace of ideal society, I felt like a captive beast within my own flesh. My soul clawed at its fragile prison, the earth-shattering power of its influence threatening to burst through my skin at any moment. My soul screamed for fulfilment! “Do not waste me!” It roared. “You see your potential, do you not? You long for a purpose and meaning in life that is in your power to achieve! Go forth and seize it!” The beast within me reared on its haunches and turned my gaze to the countenances of my past friends.

“Look into their eyes! You see in them nothing, do you not? Vapid, glazed; none of them will become anything more that what society deems of them possible. That is not a fate for which you are destined!”

Reader, how the beast spoke with such vicious clarity, directly to my heart, and my fears! How I shuddered to think of my life as wasted, of my time here on Earth being forgotten, for I had done nothing to deserve its memory. So, friendless, loveless and alone, I embarked upon a journey to find the human connection and purpose for which I so longed. You see, I knew what my heart desired. I was not a pathetic wanderer without aim; I had a goal, and I fought to achieve it. I resolved to leave the place that had so long been my existence, my life, my ruin; the first opportunity I had I boarded a train, and, with what little money I had, paid the fare and rode it as far as it could take me.

Eighteen years old and far from home, I was frightened, though I did not miss my friends, only my family. They knew not of where I was now; I had kept my journey a secret. What could I do? What were my options at such a young age, and in so secluded a village as I was in now compared to the pristine suburbia from whence I came? I had not travelled much in my short lifetime, nor had I been given the opportunity to explore much of the world around me, my life so consumed by studies, athletics, and other activities that promised me certain acceptance into any post-secondary institute I wished. So, I had learned in time to wring from every small experience I had lived, every scattered conversation heard, every film watched or book read the deepest and most profound meaning I could. Bound by my pre-determined lifestyle I took refuge in novels, leeching life from every tale of fantasy, fantastical creatures and foreign lands; other worlds to me. I made the best of what I had been provided, living vicariously through the adventures of others. So can you not see, dear reader, the prison in which I had been kept? My parents loved me, but they did not nurture my soul, my talents, or my potential. Instead they set me upon a well-worn path of destiny that I knew, though in ways I think they did not, would eventually lead to mediocrity, the fate which I repulsed with every fibre of my being! So do not think me over-dramatic, pitiable and insane for leaving my past life; I had no home there.

My first day in Elysium passed quickly and soon gave way to night; I had no money for room in a hotel. Every passing light I glimpsed was hunting for me, every bark a search dog released to catch my scent and send me home, where I could not return. I had considered the idea often, but always the beast would counter with a sense that I could not challenge.

“To return now would have you forever remembered as a failure! You’ve crossed the river, Ophelia, the tides have turned; you cannot go back. You have made your choice, and to go back on it now will have what little respect the world hold for you disappear with the first breath you take back home. Keep your independence; it is all you have!”

Suddenly, a second, much quieter voice announced itself now, far less commanding than the first.

“But it is love she longs for; companionship is for what her heart bleeds,” it said.

“Self-love is enough! She has seen the people of this world: Cold and thoughtless, spiritless and confirmative, to love one of them would be to sacrifice her very morals and free will!”

“But not all people are alike,” The smaller voice continued. “There is someone in this world who will find her, and who will care for and nurture her soul, not let it wither and die. To give her heart to so worthy another is not to relinquish its power, or to bind it to her lover’s command, but to share in the combined power of two hearts fused as one, to make a soul stronger than any other.”

The first voice was silenced, but I knew it would not be forever. The beast had retreated into the recesses of my heart, preparing for its next ambush upon my mind. At long I heard violent shriek, a small cry, then a final gasp of breath; I felt a darkness settle upon my soul.

I began to starve as the days past. With no money to my name or occupation to earn any, I searched for any employer who would give me work. I stalked through the streets, knocking at doors, visiting businesses, but to no avail. At last I reached the final, tiny cottage of the hamlet, yet to my dismay, no one was within it. I fell to my knees, weak and breathless, the entirety of my hope placed upon this empty home. I would not weep; I had done this to myself, and I must pay the price. Instead I let my body sleep truly for the first time since I’d arrived, curled in shame on the doorstep of a stranger; I had no pride.

I awoke some time later to the feeling of a strong hand descending upon my shoulder, shaking me gently, seemingly to see if I was alive. The night had not yet passed since I had fallen upon this doorstep; I saw the waxing moon glaring brightly from amongst the heavens. I saw a figure, tall and vast, bent over me, his face, for I guessed by his stature that he was indeed a man, shrouded in shadow. I stood up resolutely as I could, my thoughts swimming as my mind clouded with hunger. I bowed my head respectfully and turned to leave, but to my confusion I felt his grip wrap around my slight arm.

“Tell me, miss; Have you somewhere to stay?” The man said, voice low and deep.

I faced him directly, eyes searching his countenance, of which I could not see.

“I mean not to trouble you sir; I shall be on my way in peace.” I answered unwaveringly, once again stepping towards the road, but the grip did not loosen; he held me tightly.

The man then stepped into the light of the moon, and beneath this otherworldly gleam I saw his face clearly, and at the sight I did, reader, nearly weep. I looked into his clear blue eyes and saw within them a startling trueness, a genuiness unparalleled by any other I’d ever beheld. Through these eyes I saw like windows into the very character of his soul, supremely good and vicarious, the very life of it shining upon me and giving me strength. Never in my life had I met anyone so utterly like myself. Could he, this god-like figure before me, from whose beauty I could not tear my eyes, whose presence was like a reviving breath into my soul, be my life’s companion for whom I’d been searching?

“I know a place not far from here that will take you in. Stay near to me, and I’ll take you there; it would be no use for you to lose yourself now.”

Suddenly I felt myself being pulled, nearly carried, first along the main road and then through winding alleys by this angelic figure, his strength so great I do not believe my feet touched the ground beneath us for more than a moment. I shamed myself; I had known this man for so little time, yet it felt to me as if our souls had fused into one, two hearts connected by a bond that I had never believed possible in this world; for I felt so deeply inside me that if he were ever to leave me, this divine thread that bound our souls would sever my spirit, tearing my innermost core, and I would bleed the very life from my essence.

The stranger gently lighted me before a set of great silver doors that sat at the crest of a long, black staircase. The night was growing cold now; I pushed these doors open quickly. The man and I entered into a large, white room, at which end sat a woman behind a desk of the same shade. The woman looked up, her eyes directed to us.

“Can I be of service?” she asked.

“I am in need of lodging tonight, Madam; under unfortunate circumstances I am without a place to stay.” I replied.

The woman looked at me with soft eyes.

“I believe you are mistaken, miss; we do not serve the public here.”

I started back, thought briefly. I turned to the man beside me.

“It seems we’ve found the wrong address,” I told him. He looked grave, his face drawn and rigid.

“Pardon me, miss?” The woman offered, puzzled.

“It’s nothing, Madam; it seems we’ve simply gotten lost. Thank you for your time.”

I turned to leave, but caught in my peripherals the woman rising from her seat, walking towards us with resolute strides. She smiled again, outstretching her hand.

“Miss, do not worry; we have plenty of room for you here.”

I blinked, cautious.

“Please madam,” I said delicately, turning towards the stranger, my soul mate. “Let me say goodbye to my dear friend.”

The woman stared at me with confused, searching eyes. I smiled forcefully, turning quickly away from her. I took the stranger’s hand in mine, speaking to him with a lightness in my heart that I could not recall from any recent memory.

“Thank you, dear friend, for all you have done for me. Because of you, I will have a safe place to sleep tonight, and hope that the future will at last be bright.”

He looked away, averting my gaze. That beautiful face, so strong now seemed so vulnerable, and for this I loved him even more. I touched a hand to his cheek and my heart wept as I felt a tear slip upon my fingers.

“Dear friend!” I exclaimed, startled. “Why do you cry?”

“Goodbye, Ophelia,” He said softly, kissing my cheek. My heart swelled.

“I’ll certainly see you again, dear friend! I’ll only be here for a night,” I said, drying his eyes, so shining and full of sorrow. He turned from me now, tears pouring unceasingly from the eyes so full of feeling. Dear reader, it pained my soul to see him so, the missing part of me, weeping in a grief I could not understand!

The woman appeared before me again, another woman accompanying her now. They each looked at me carefully.

“Your room is ready, miss,” the new woman said. She held out her hand just as the other woman had done before. A voice spoke from within me, and I recognized it painfully.

“Leave him now; see how you hurt him so.”

The voice was quiet, but I could hear the malice behind it. I obeyed.

I looked back at the stranger with a broken heart, the man fallen from grace weeping now, though neither woman seemed to notice. They led me to a secluded room, identical in feeling and in colour to the lobby where my dear friend remained. They gave me food, which I ate ravenously, and drink, which I consumed with relish. Soon I was alone, the women gone, my eyes free to wander along the lines of the tiny space. I stood and ran my hands along the walls of the room; my brows furrowed as I felt their softness against my fingertips. I gazed towards the window, barred with slender metal rods at frequent intervals. My thoughts began to swim, a dull haze clouding the sharpness of my conscience. I hurled myself against the door, tearing at the handle that refused to turn. Teeth bared, I shrieked in hysteria; Reader, how the cry swelled to my lips from the very belly of my soul! Suddenly the door unlocked, the two women appearing in the doorway, accompanied by an older man, grey-haired and clad in sickly white.

“Where is my dear friend?” I cried, passion rising in my chest.

“Who?” The second woman asked brazenly, the first woman grabbing her arm forcefully and twisting it, the second woman yelping quietly in realized fault.

“Your friend will be here to visit you in a short while,” the man said, a clipboard pressed to his chest.

“Tell me exactly when,” I hissed.

“Soon,” The man said, with an air of finality. He gazed at me a moment longer through cold eyes, black as pitch. The door closed with a slam, the lock turning.

I crawled across the carpeted floor to the far corner of the room, crouched beneath the cool moonlight that poured through the small window. I pulled my knees to my heart, frightened. Suddenly I felt so young, the maturity I believed myself to have gained in my seclusion from the people that I had thought so simple, so inhibiting, disappear in a moment. I would not weep; I would not! Why, reader? Because although I felt so utterly depleted, my conscience misleading, without friends, family or health, hope within me remained, hope that my dear friend, my guardian angel, whose heart I still held beside mine, would return. Reader, do not worry for me; I know not what will happen in the future, but I believe it to be good. The beast within me still speaks often, but I know that I will one day conquer it. My existence shall be memorable, not only because you hear me speak now, reader, but because I believe it to be so, and to believe in something with all your heart is to ensure that it will one day come true. Although it may seem now that I am trapped, bound, caged, fear not, because no hardship, impossible to overcome or not, will ever break my soul; for through it all, I will always have the sanctity of my eternal mind.