dear Change

I could never dare compare the life of a god to that of a mere human. Humans are just flesh and bone, ever so fragile in their existence but gods, well, gods are gods. Divine and absolute. These immortal deities that bend our very existence and that of everything around us to their every whim. Which brings me to the source of their infinite power, aren’t gods like a monarch? Only as powerful as its people are loyal? Once the loyalty of its subjects is lost then it is essentially toppled over. Forced to retreat to a life of exile and nothingness like paupers, just ask Prince Philip, the king without a kingdom. The monarch without its subjects or their loyalty becomes for lack of a better term a vibrator that does not vibrate. A useless but expensive toy. I suppose the same can be said of gods, for they too are powered by belief, faith, worship and loyalty. By our sacrifices without which they are nothing more than names in the dust. Primordials came and passed, as did the Titans and the Olympian gods. Reduced to nothing but tales of grand adventures for children’s story books.

I too lived as one of these. A goddess, assured of my place in the world. A queen with a kingdom. But much like Prince Philip I have become a sovereign without a kingdom. And that type of loss cannot be remedied. I look around me and see how slowly but surely, I have joined them, these gods of old. Gathering dust, decaying and dying. Forgotten.

I see how Erebus (darkness), Calligo (nothingness) and Chaos (void) have become my true companions. How they’ve built a shrine for themselves in my life deriving power from this unintentional companionship that was thrust upon me. Cursing me with the immortality of memory and the death of reality. Watching as what dies makes way for what is. Void. Nothingness. Darkness.

I have watched the days of my importance fade away as the titans watched the Olympian gods grow in strength. Left with nothing of notable importance I am forced to confront the question that no man can answer. Who am I? Am I just dust and bone? Made to be bent and folded and then just die? Doomed to feed the earth the nothingness that inhabited me? Or am I forgotten like the Primordials. Lingering in a realm of neither real nor fictional. In limbo neither existing nor dead. Am I doomed to watch it all? To watch the world, continue without me? As I stand in this pool of nothingness. A beautiful magical divine pool of nothing?

Perhaps my friends and family will immortalize me. Provided they can even remember me. I feel myself fading into obscurity and it’s all so horribly terrifying. But because I’ve never been allowed to show how very human and fragile, I am, I’ve never learnt how to express fear. So even when I write about my fear of being stuck and forgotten, I’m careful with my words. Careful not to sound weak or unhappy. Careful not to sound desperate as I feel. Careful not to come across as pitiful as I am. Because in reality At least in this reality, even when it all goes to hell, he who wears the crown must bear the crown.

Dear Change, I screamed out for you. I spent days and nights of my life waiting for you to sweep me off my feet. So, you did. Just not in the shape I wanted. I thought when you showed up, you’d come in the form of metamorphosis but you were more the hurricane that blew my house away. Either way you have already done it and I guess this year I am going to have to talk to God more and just move. Even if I still live in the old days, life is moving with or without me.

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