Stillborn World: The Lone Dreamer Phenomenon

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


The ramblings of an empty shell moments before the end of the world.

Submitted: December 07, 2017

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Submitted: December 07, 2017

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It began with a simple question: what does it mean to be truly alone? For years, I thought that the presence of others was an automatic disqualification for those who felt they were “alone”, because how can someone be alone when surrounded by others?

I answered my own question as time passed by, but not for the reasons one has come to expect. I always suspected brain damage had a part in my abnormally long daydreaming sessions, and I’ve yet to confirm this via professional medical diagnosis, but the fact remains that at some point, I began to disconnect from those around me. All of them.

At first, I stopped talking as much. You’d be surprised at what you learn of people when you simply listen. The way they say things, the way they listen to you, if they do at all. And that was what I learned. Most of the people surrounding me did not listen to a word I said. It was amusing at first, but a deep sense of panic overtook me every time. From social and generally perceived as “kind”, I began to change my image without taking notice. Slowly, but surely, I became an elusive recluse.

Close friends talked of their respective jobs, while I sat there, having nothing to contribute to the pointless and mundane conversation. So in reality it was a combination of two things: my complete disregard for the average conversation, and the need to listen and observe what I considered interesting or different. The “normal” did not satisfy my mind any longer, and I longed for the abnormal and absurd. But real life is full of normal. It’s full of the mundane. Adventure is scarce, and likeminded people are a rarity. I don’t consider myself a special individual in any way, just a victim of my own mind and of my own “want”.

A girlfriend that I realized did not truly think of me as a human being, but rather as an accessory and witness to her own life and ambitions. I was, for all intents and purposes, a Yes-Man of sorts, or a passenger on an airplane. The ride kept going, and I was expected to go along with it, no questions asked. There was no questioning her, as it spiraled into an endless loop of her believing she was right, and that her words were completely logical in her own twisted, nonsensical world. Instead of anger, I felt indifference. An indifference that consumed me to the core. The concept of dating again if this relationship ended was extremely tiring. I had to start again. Meeting someone else. Sharing my interests, my stories, my struggles. I do not want to do that again. I don’t want to pretend I’m a human being.

Because deep down, I am not. That indifference is what slowly consumed every single idea and concept of what could be called a “soul” or anything resembling such a thing. I don’t care.

My longtime friends suddenly became faceless men, spewing sound waves of nonsensical gibberish I cared little for. The laughs and shared moments were trapped in time, as the slow progress of my own life dulled any sort of emotional pain. These friends were but strangers I used to know, and I was being treated and felt like one to them as well.

The sweet lover I had trusted so much became a well of problems I despised. Not a word I said mattered, and any troubles I shared was dismissed by words that basically followed the “I had it worse than you, or others have it worse than you” mentality. Knowing about the struggles of others still doesn’t help my case, and it also means this person cared so little for me that sharing any words was meaningless and pointless in the first place. How could I possibly continue with this?

Friends became faceless, a lover became the source of regret and indifference. How could I trust in these anymore? It was then I realized that I was surrounded by people, yet completely alone. My daydreaming grew, and overtook me. No, it wasn’t daydreaming. The world itself began to collapse around me, and the concepts that gave it shape and form lost all meaning. People becoming simple phantoms made of basic shapes, faces greyed out and buildings being nothing more than pointless wireframes. I stood outside, in some abandoned and forgotten place. Only the sky and the stars had any color in my new vision, and they were the only thing that held significance. I am not human, because I want the world to be something more.

But in my vision I saw a red moon slowly approaching. It was not a vision, but something that was happening. Everyone’s eyes were seeing the same thing. These pointless creatures were witnessing the end of their world.

But I was witnessing the start of my much desired new one.


© Copyright 2020 Dave Davidson. All rights reserved.

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