Young Writers Society

"ME"

In the beginning there were only him and me. We lived in harmony. He was shackled in his dark little room, chained with thick iron bindings, put away behind soundproof walls from where his voice was nothing more than a weak whisper that went unnoticed. And there was ME a child of the surface world, free and unbound, curious and naive. I was in the sun feeling the world I had hopes and dreams I was human. All this time he sat in his prison, hating, regreting. He was an abomination a mixture of many notion: demonic, beastial as well as human. He was angry and unpredictable. He was an inteligent realist trapped in the prison of both his self-pity and his loneliness. I laughed while he grinned savagely.

There were times when these walls got thinner maybe even cracked, and his voice and will slipped through and combined with my own. But those times were rare, and easily neglected. When my heart cracked for the first time I remember hearing the echo : " There's nothing for you there". But as time passed I bounced back and quickly returned to the sun. He, however, stayed motionless in his chamber. Motionless but never unconscious . I jumped around on the surface of this world. I felt as if it was made for me. As if the world is mine for the taking. I smilled and stared in the sky through eyes drunk with youth. His eyes were red and at home in darkness, they saw more.

Time went on and I grew. I changed. Saw the world a bit differently but I didn't let that get to me. I figured that it is normal. Everybody's perspective changes a bit with the years. It was natural and therefore (in my eyes) it was good. At this time of my life his dark room got a window. A very small window, but a window nonetheless. I could see him, staring at me. Grining , with the expression that was saying "I told you so". But I drew curtains over his window and he became a non-factor once again.

"Why are people this ignorant?" I wondered. Most of them can barely call themself induviduals. They are like a fucking herd of mindless cattle. Sponges of the mass media. It's a good thing not all of them are like that isn't it? It can't be? Is this really the true face of the world, is this really what we fight for to live in? (I thought all this was my monologue. But at that time someone else joined in)

"You must be desperate" he said "Asking me for answers". I was stunned. He spoke to me. I mean I could sense and vaguely hear him earlier. BUt this. THis was an open communication. I muttered " Errm Can you go back to your room please?" My eyes stopped at the remainings of the ripped chains on his arms. THe chains that use to bind him to place. " No can do sunshine" he grined "I'm here to stay "

"Why? Why now?" I was intriged but less scared.He replied "Come on man, you are naive but not that stupid are you? Besides we have been best buds for quite some time now weren't we? "

And then it hit me. It slaped me on the face. It shook my world to its foundation. Who was I seeing in the mirror for the past years? Me? or Him? When did this happened? When did we start looking so alike? Is this really the first time we were talking? Or was my whole life a conversation with him? A debate. A never ending debate between the two of us. Just the two of us. The world? There is no such thing, even if it was. We don't need it. World can hurt you, world can break you if you open too much. I write this in my little black room watching the reality from my litle narrow window. And I'm grinning. I'm chained here because of my own will. I see more from here than those who bathe in the sun. There is no we anymore, only I.