The Pit

The Pit

2007- New Moon
I wasn’t born a human. The baby that left the hospital that day, in my mothers arms, wasn’t a homo sapien. It was still me, just a different kind of thing. My cries came off more as canine howls, and my first steps were backwards. I even gave off a darkness–a night sky without its moon–sourced from inside of me, the mind of a child, which was just missing a piece. A light for that night sky. Instead, a pit was left in its place. And with every backward step I took, the pit grew ever closer to encompassing my body in its uncaring grasp.
It took a while to realize this, but with enough evidence of my lack of friends, and of the clock ticking away while I sit silent in my room, the claim that I was a robot, incapable of emotion, becomes hard to disprove. I could still think of course, but when that thinking wandered off the meaningless internet drama and onto my heart, I suppressed it. Just as I did everything else. But some days, only the best of days, I could bear the weight of what lay deep down that pit. And it was so goddamn bright. It made my mind race–which sped up throughout the years, but what remained absent was the heat brought on by feeling.


2020- Waxing Crescent
With the heat of my laptop soaking through the fleece blanket, I feel cozy, chill, relaxed. I’m chillaxing, as the kids would say. The screen in front of me flared with whatever random YouTube video I selected, and a symphony of game audio and overly hype voices hummed itself into my ears.
I gradually became aware of a light and airy feeling beneath me. Not from the single person mattress, but from me unceremoniously drifting off in passionless thought and floating high above the ground below, becoming one with the clouds. Clouds have one purpose. Rain. I used to think clouds and I had nothing in common. Though I’m actually only about four feet above the ground, and my room lacks any hint of white.
A quiet banging from the door beckons me back down to Earth. I sit up straight, tilt the laptop screen down a tad and push it to the side in one complete move. It must have appeared like a dance. I complete my performance by pulling a black earbud from my left ear, and I reply to the faceless noise with a typical, “Come in,” signaling the curtain call on my rendition of The Uninspired Teenage Boy Prepares To Speak With A Parent.
My frizzy hair twists in the breeze created from the door swinging open. Now
framed in the, well, frame, is the strained face of my father.
I saw red cheeks,—It wasn’t from cold—dark ravines beneath the eyes—he gets great sleep—and a light coating of shining liquid, flooding the ravines with personal rainwater. And instead of the expected lecture, all I hear is a few words.
“Hey dude, um, Geisha—One of our cats—is like really, really sick.”
I nodded.
“And Mama’s gonna have to have her put down.”
I nodded again.
“So if you want to, you should come upstairs to, you know, say goodbye.”
And what did I say to that, what I goddamn said to that!?
“Ok.” And the door swung shut.
Guess what?
I didn’t even go upstairs.

Interlude- Nothingness
So that’s how it is. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I can’t care. I can’t force my emotionless self to feel something. Don’t interpret my words in the sense that I don’t feel emotions. I do! Everyone does! But I’m just not aware of them; my understanding is not deep like an ocean, but shallow like a tidepool.


2021- First Quarter
I had Covid. Or at least was exposed to it. For me however, this was just an excusable way to do absolutely nothing for a week. Of course, I still would have done absolutely nothing regardless of my health status.
Up until this point, a piece of media, or literature, had never really hit me. My skull was too thick to be penetrated by the craft of a director or a writer, always putting the logical conclusion–they don’t do this because they care–in the forefront of my mind. Up until this point, where I lay back, with my only illumination being the screen of my broken cased phone, had nothing been able to break the facade of coolness I give off. Or that I hope I give off. Nothing up until this point, whereupon I heard the final notes of the ending scene of the anime [REDACTED], where the screen grayed itself out, and saw a white replay button appear in the middle, had anything been able to do it.
Really, the only thing I could bring myself to replay was the memories of the show, the journey I traveled upon with the characters, and the unforgettable ending of one of those characters. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was obsessed. And never up until this point had I been pushed over the edge and been caught gliding down a cascade of long forgotten feelings.
But I cried.
I think my tears in this case are the physical manifestations of my emotional unawareness. While my consciousness had been completely dry of feeling, the pipes of my actual consciousness (Subconsciousness?) had finally been broken down enough, and decided to flood my barren mind in the most literal way possible. Because even though I function entirely without emotional consultation, the fact that my brain decided to release water from my eyes in reaction to seeing something very emotionally charged, is impossible to refute or ignore.
My brain made its own, uninfluenced argument.


Interlude- But light?
I haven’t cried much since. Only once I remember. But at least the memory is there. I cherish it, not knowing when it will be overwhelmed by the all encompassing darkness that surrounds it at every turn. Memories are fleeting things, just waiting to fizzle out like sparks from a flame. And when suppressed, turn into dust. So I hold that moment close to my heart, fearful that this might be the last time I remember, and that the light will recede back to where it came. The bottom of the pit.


2022- Waxing Gibbous
The wave of the school hallway during passing time flurried around me in a maelstrom of stupid freshmen who forget to walk forward, girls doubling over in laughter, and the occasional 6 '6 giant. I would not sink in this. I was pulled by my determination towards my classroom, and safety from the ever encompassing storm of interruptions and distractions.
I had to read. But it wasn’t just reading, it was bringing a conclusion to a part of my life, a book called [REDACTED] and I only had a couple pages left. Finally, I reached my spot and pulled the zipper on my bag open with such velocity, it may have even caused sparks.
With equal velocity my eyes flew across the pages, my brain processing their information at NASA supercomputer speeds. I flipped to the last page. The story had climaxed long ago at this point, but the proper ending was what I desired. And as I sunk towards the final few sentences, the speed of everything slowed, and I simply decided to take it all in
… if only for a moment.
And that was it.
I slammed the cover shut, I do this whenever I finish a book for the first time, and was left completely and utterly awestruck. If I could even call it “awestruckness.” Really, it was far too many feelings to handle. A sense of satisfaction battled with a sense of emptiness, and on the sidelines a greater understanding of life clashed swords with confusion. And the final words of the book felt very appropriate, as the bell struck thrice, and the teacher stood up from their chair, pulling me from my moment of conviction.


2023- Full Moon
I now find myself sitting in my rickety and too high office chair, with Lofi coming through the headphones positioned over my ears. In between my ears, my brain has finally slowed and cooled off, and my fingers on the keyboard have stopped the frantic tapping of before. I continue at this slow pace, but begin to focus by brain on something I never thought I could. What emotions have I felt today? I think I can list them.
Annoyance
Fear
Nostalgia
Happiness
Appreciation
Love?
I could even list off when, if I wanted, but instead I choose the route of ending it here. I stare out to the window, where the moon is now full, and it lights up the night sky. I glance back at the computer screen, smile, catch myself smiling, put a comma here and a comma there, lean back into the soft feeling of the chair, and simply decide…
Who knows?