I felt it creeping up inside me. A spawn of despair and anxiety that I could not contain. My mind was fractured. Insanity had me in its clutches; the result of overwhelming despair.
If only I could have experienced something new, something unexpected. Day in, day out, the same mediocre suffering. At first, my resolve was unwavering. I woke up with a smile. I was unflinching, charismatic, funny even, a positive leader… a beacon of hope for everyone around me. I felt needed and persevered… for them.
My days were bleak and tasteless. My jokes became as redundant as the days were themselves. My torture was mediocre but mediocrity was torture itself. I think he knew it was pointless for him to change his sadistic recipe for suffering. He had found the best instrument to cause anguish, time. Patience was pointless for us. We were all waiting for a miracle that would never come. God could not intervene here. He could simply wait; rest as we inevitably gave up, one by one. He wanted to see us fall while our single purpose was to survive. Who would win in this contest of patience?
I struggled to stay strong. I could not let them down. I could not appear to be weak. What would they think of me if I gave up? Anxiety and despair, a concoction of pure malice, poisoned my spirit. I lost myself in the efforts. I had become what they wanted me to be; what they needed me to be.
I resigned. My endurance was cracked. My resolve was shattered.
I walked into his office. There he sat in the darkest of rooms, hidden in haunting shadows, he, the one with the blackest of hearts. He stared at me with a casual grin. Time, his friend, had brought him another victim. I signed his malevolent contract.
I felt relieved. Not because the suffering had ended- It would never end, not for me. Not because I could finally stop portraying an heroic character, ending this constant pressure imposed by my peers. Sadly enough, I felt relieved to, at long last, experience something new. However evil this new task may be.
I embraced my new position. I had a new purpose. I did what he asked of me. The anxiety they had caused me fueled my actions against them. Causing suffering did not affect me. I was already broken. You can’t break a broken man. Causing pain was better than suffering through it. Or at least… it was different; a welcomed change.
Days, months, years… Time was still on his side. Inflicting had become as bland as receiving.
This new kid came in. His resolve, his smile, his charisma, even his jokes were impressive. He inspired others around him. I started focusing my attention on him. Until I could break him. Why? To show him his facade was pointless? To teach him he would inevitably win? To renew my purpose and postpone monotonicity? Or was it because he reminded me of something; of someone?
I stopped trying to justify my actions a long time ago, yet I could not waver this feeling of nostalgia. He kept challenging me. We both persevered for a respectable period of time. However, I eventually broke him… broke myself.
I saw him walking towards his office. What had I done? I had relinquished the role of a character to simply play the part of another. I had become his puppet to be used to create a cycle of pain and suffering.
Will he always win this contest of patience?