Feeling Human

Most of the time I feel permanent. Not like immortal or anything, but more timeless. Fixed, I guess you could say. Because of this, I’m not easily afraid of anything, even death.

Once I was out with some friends at a restaurant. I can’t even remember exactly what was said, but a friend of mine said something that humiliated me in front of everyone. Now, there are a few emotions which my brain simply cannot process and my body simply cannot contain. Shame is one of them. I stood up, walked out, and cold late autumn air immediately began to burn my bare arms. I didn’t know where to go, but I had to get out – I had to leave.

I ended up in the empty parking lot behind the building. I paced back and forth, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I was on fire, I was burning. Everything blurred as I prepared to overheat. Just then, I stepped on some broken glass. The crunch of the shattered bottle pieces was a sudden epiphany, a perfect solution in my time of need. I threw myself to the ground and swept up a handful of my fragmented escape. Without hesitation, I dug into my arm with merciless jagged dragging motions.

Once relieved of my tunnel vision, the world started to brush up against me again one sense at a time. I felt the unrestrained gusts of wind sting my face. I saw the stained glass that littered the parking lot shining in the moonlight. I smelled the night air, polluted by overly rich smells coming from the restaurant.  I started breathe again.

I walked back into the restaurant with a stupid placid smile on my face. For the rest of the night, the conversation reached my ears but not my mind.

–

Once I was home, I felt something deep and dark looming on the outer reaches of my psyche. I felt something had been looked over, something was out of place – I couldn’t yet articulate it though. Presque vu. My arm stung. Suddenly, the ominous thought choked my mind. Could I have… gotten HIV or AIDS from that glass? I didn’t know how or why it was broken… maybe someone infected had done the same thing I had. Maybe it was a freak coincidence and I could now be infected. I felt short of breath. Panicked. There was a hurried urgency in my heartbeat, but I had forgotten how to move. I stared down at my arm. Was it worth it? This was what I wanted, wasn’t it – death? Maybe I had unwittingly fulfilled my secret urge. I felt overwhelming anguish. I was afraid.

 And then I realized it: I wasn’t permanent at all. My life was as brittle as anyone else’s, and because of that I was transient too. The adrenaline of facing my own mortality began to finally die down. I halfway laughed to myself dryly.

I finally felt human.

Note: yeah, I looked it up not that long after I freaked out and you can’t get HIV/AIDS like that. dont I feel stupid. So jokes on me for freaking out. Wasn’t really the point of the story though.