Serial Feeling

     I remember the first day it happened. The day that I woke and could not conceive the pain I felt surrounding, engrossing my entire being. I was filled with nothing. Everything had left me and I was void. The pain of my loss, the pain of my suffering, my own suffering I could not experience. Never before in my life had to wished to inflict myself with such terrors just to induce some sort of hint of emotions. June 26th at nine o' clock in the morning was the day that I lost the ability to Feel.

     She didn't believe, she never did. I pleaded and begged her to understand but she did not, would not believe me. My pleads went ignored in my solemn apathetic voice. How could I express my worry, my pain if I could not use my soul. For my brain did not care, but my soul was aching.

     I left her and she cried, said I was a bad man, said I was a bad man, a bad man. No, I am a good man but the ability to be what I am has escaped me and I would find it, I would search for who took it from me, who robbed me of my love, my passion, and my desires.

     I met a street whore who attempted to proposition me, and I declined. Her sexual seductions and exposed breasts did nothing to me for I could not mind her. My body screamed yes but my apathy said no, and I listened. Why should emotions effect my decisions, why should they effect what I say or do, I still know what i want and how I want. Don't I?

    I came across a homeless man begging for money, he yelled at me as I ignored his exposed hand upon the way of my passage. I could feel not sympathy for the man and I could feel no pity for the man. He was homeless and had become so do to his own willing. Or had he. The homeless man approached me and I told him I had no interest in the conflictions of the poor. Did I really say that? Was I robbed of my soul so far as to berate another human, another human being? No, or yes. Yes I had. The man shoved me and I stumbled backwards. I felt nothing, no anger, not even fear. I walked away.

   I still felt nothing as the months of searching passed, my life slowly creeped by leaving me behind, leaving me to rot as the other men and women of the world enjoyed it. I was conflicted with my loss but how could I be conflicted when I feel not a thing. Can one have an inner conflict if one has no inner being, no self, and no identity?

  I forgot my name, my age, and my life, it seems as though I am rotting away, haven't eaten in days, weeks, in my search for love, hate, and desire. I reduced my self to physical pain, cuts upon the legs and arms, breaking of limbs, and I had even considered castration, which at first I could not do but brought myself to it. I feel nothing still and can not move on.

  I wish to end the suffering that I do not feel, if one small thing in this world could affect my emotions, my ways of life, then maybe I could continue.

  I could not bring myself to suicide, my new curse that I must live with has given me the inability to end myself. So I returned to my old home and found a new family living within. I know not how long I have been gone, could be months could be decades, not that my life has meaning left to continue. I talked to the family and after a short conversation I was berated as a bad man, a bad man, a bad man, for my lack of the ability to feel.

  A bad man, a bad man, a bad man, a very bad man, a very bad man, but i'm a good man, a good man, a good man. I can't feel, it isn't my fault.

  All these people hate me, call me a bad man, a bad man, a bad man. They don't understand, they can feel, but I cannot, I cannot feel anything and yet they judge me.

  I rediscovered anger today and anger alone. A child called me a bad man today, a bad man, a bad man. I took the child's life, maybe just maybe through similar actions I can reclaim my love, and my desire.

 I am not a bad man, I am a good man who has lost his feel.