Can I tell you a secret? You probably won’t understand. But I’ll tell it to you anyway because otherwise I’ll go mad. You see, I’m not a real person – no really, I’m not. See this stethoscope around my neck? It’s just a doorway to people’s hearts.
Today I sucked up melancholy, that melon that overflows. My body took in all the juices and made a concoction of its own. Sometimes I sit with the fluid, the sadness mixed with the tears, and sometimes I go even further, and try to mix in my own fears.
Somedays the door just won’t shut, and in comes the hurricane with rage. It washes me with hatred and anger, leaving spit in all its tirade. Somedays the thunder rings so loud, that the the marrow shudders in my bones, but the worst is when they look right at me, and that’s when I feel loathing the most.
The end of the shift is a relief, but there’s always work to be done. I make sure I leave with the minimum – just my skin to protect me from them. Most days the stains don’t wash, and I leave with my heart still tainted, but even that is better than the malice, which just seems to grow bigger with hatred.
I’ve tried everything that I’ve got, I don’t want to be impassive and dull. I don’t want these shadows to follow me, and make me a person I’m not.
My first stop is always the bins, scattered with cigarettes and gum, and there I drop off the melancholy – that shadow that lurks with the sun. The streets are always this empty, so I don’t have to put on any mask; luckily I lost my persona, back when I started this job.
As I make my way to the park, I hurl hatred right over the gate, avoiding the stench as I go, smelling it shadow my gait. Once I get past the big roundabout, my legs always feel that much lighter, but always I can feel in the darkness, the inevitability of the upcoming future.
Sometimes I sit on the kerbside, and watch the cars come and go. But always I hear my heartbeat, telling me there’s no more I can do. I’ve watched as my emotions have perished, as my personality has been ground into dust. I’ve taken each thought as it started, and crushed it with the edge of my heart. It’s been a long time since I started, so many journeys made without hope. I’ve taken humanity in all of its’ vengeance, exposed in its joys and its frills.
At first I didn’t care – I’d thrown hope a long time ago. But as I sit here and reflect on the past, I wonder if I can be saved anymore.
