Emptiness

I woke up... and what did I see? Emptiness.... Beyond that, there was absolutely nothing around me. I couldn't fight the empty space left by His departure. I couldn't, or perhaps simply didn't want to, because it was the state that suited me best. Because why fight against something that allows me to live my own life, gives me the ability to completely preserve my own self, and also gives me the extraordinary ability to create my own independent image of reality without asking anyone's opinion, without wondering if it bothers anyone or whether they consent to exist in a particular landscape—one created, after all, for the egotistical self-satisfaction of snobbish dreams.

And yet, something strange was happening in my mind, in my soul, in my heart. It was a medically undefined condition—a disease of the soul for which no world-renowned doctor had yet devised an effective cure. Although it's the most dangerous and easily spreading virus that can attack the human species – the Arrow virus – named for the way it can be transmitted. Some even consider it a specific type of chemical weapon, as rumors circulate that the Arrow is saturated with nectar that triggers various chemical reactions in the human heart, resulting in two extremes: immense happiness or great despair. Despite the fact that complications following the illness can be extremely serious, even leading to the death of the most important 21-gram component of our existence – the soul, more and more people are passively subjecting themselves to the Arrow's influence.

So it's no wonder it affected me too... I couldn't resist the charm of the person sitting next to me. A few glances, a few innocent brushes of our hands, and the insidious, winged carrier of the deadly virus struck my heart with an arrow laced with poison. It was too late to defend myself, too late to say anything, too late to save my life and my precious soul... and my mind stopped working rationally - it was completely and finally condemned to the dictatorial rule of a corrupted heart.

That was the day of my defeat – I ceased to exist as a thinking being and began a period of vegetative growth based solely on the hope that I would manage to infect Him as well. My only ally was my heart, which tried to offer me numerous ideas for a life together in the so-called "near future" and how to achieve them. I was unable to rationally explain to myself the principle behind my actions. Perhaps there was no such principle. I didn't know if it would have any effect. However, I didn't protest and did everything according to the tyrant's instructions. I was constantly afraid of my success. Throughout the illness, I didn't know if I would successfully infect Him, or if we would ever be together. However, to prevent the infection from progressing and to minimize possible complications, I submitted to the will of the "dictator." I passively awaited the consequences of irrational actions that I could not control and for which I had to bear full responsibility. It was often difficult to explain everything, to fix something, but I couldn't fight it – this inner force was leading me to a dead end from which there was only one way out. His love was my only salvation. I had no other option but to fight for it until the end, until death, to regain balance in an illness from which nothing could fully heal me.

After many months of repeated failures, when I was losing all hope that my eventual salvation from this fatal disease would ever come and that I would be able to obtain the extremely expensive, even priceless, medicine, I won. We finally started dating... At that moment, the wish of the tyrant who had been ruling my body and soul for the past few days was fulfilled. Because every human immune system cannot fight the Arrow viruses, his body eventually fell ill too. Perhaps a somewhat destructive and less than humane action, but what can you do? When it comes to my life, I'm the most selfish person you could ever meet... But I guess I'm like everyone else, so I'm fully justified, because probably no one would be kind enough to sacrifice their life for someone else, especially when we know that it's because of that person that our existence is extinguished like the flame of a burnt-out candle.

When his heart, struck by the arrow of the winged carrier, began searching for a potential companion, the nectars in our hearts began their destructive activity. A true chemistry began between our poisoned bodies. As a result of the complex reactions to which we were passively forced to submit, our separate states (our bodies), with their dictatorial government at their helm, decided to merge into one strong state with dualistic power exercised by two bodies whose corruption led to unhealthy policies. However, as long as it didn't destabilize our lives and disrupt our individuality in a particularly intrusive way, we accepted all the actions of tyrannical governments.

We gave in when they demanded constant companionship, because our hearts constantly told us that separated governments couldn't govern fully efficiently and to the benefit of their citizens—in this case, me and Him. To avoid any potential repression that might befall us if the corrupt government got the idea to punish us for obstructing its work, we spent as much time together as possible. Constant walks, shared silences and conversations, shared sorrows and joys. We had nothing that belonged to me or Him; everything was ours alone, ours alone. From the moment we created a single state, we constituted a single, inseparable whole, unbreakable because it was held in strong hands. We knew that this power could only be overthrown by effective sabotage, which was absolutely out of the question.

Subordinated to this system, we became increasingly submissive and increasingly indifferent to the introduction of increasingly strict rules that we had to follow to live peacefully within the system created by the virus. Dictators increasingly interfered in our lives, taking over more and more of it, and we allowed this without any resistance. Contrary to appearances, everyone enjoys life under a dictatorship—including us. This is because we are fully aware that the ruler wants what's best for the state, and whatever he does won't lead to its destruction, as it's not in his own best interest. Therefore, we didn't oppose everything that was happening to us and our bodies. However, by succumbing to these influences, we lost a very valuable asset: our independence, our individuality. Over time, we ceased to count as independent organisms; without each other, we meant absolutely nothing.

However, at a certain point, the situation, in which the balance between our remnants of a cohesive world had been dangerously disrupted, stopped being amusing. This entire scenario, written by a pair of sick directors, became unbearable. All these situations, from which until recently we had drawn energy, a will to live, and which had given us great joy, began to bother us. The constant commonality of interests, the constant use of the preposition "our" instead of "mine" or "yours," became the most burdensome activity we engaged in. We weren't as happy to see each other as we once were. Quite the opposite—we increasingly avoided the shared glances we once longed for. When our hands touched, it was impossible to feel that specific thrill that had accompanied us until recently, regardless of whether the touch was accidental or not.

This behavior cannot be rationally explained. For some reason, our hearts stopped pursuing a common policy and began to fight each other. Something very strange was happening in our bodies. Our dictators set new rules for us, radically different from those that had guided us before. The governments of that period sought to take over one of the countries under their control. This could not end well... This could only mean one thing... our disease had entered its next – penultimate – stage. Nothing could help anymore... There was only one solution left: separating the tyrants so they couldn't fight each other – better for us and our health, so our hearts wouldn't meet. He made the final decision – he left. He simply left without saying goodbye, without a simple "goodbye." Even then, it seemed to me that this was the most effective medicine. And I could understand his sudden and decisive action. I thought it would be for the best, that I would finally begin to live independently and normally. However, I would soon discover how wrong I was.

After the decision to completely divide our country into two separate structures, the final stage of the disease had arrived, from which, so far, no one had been able to emerge unscathed. Me too. I couldn't resist my weakness. The consequence of submission was the abyss of despair, which I was inexorably approaching. I felt the end of my life approaching.

And indeed, with each passing day, I felt more and more loneliness. More and more often, I found myself searching for His arm, His hand, His loving gaze. But He was nowhere to be found... all around me was emptiness and nothing else. Just as I had been bothered by the fact that this other person occupied all my free life space, now I was embarrassed by the lack of a loved one, someone who would fully understand me. Gradually, I began to identify with a defenseless plant that requires water and air to survive. I felt as if I had been abruptly cut off from both water and air. I withered, and finally, I began to understand the words of the poem: "

I haven't seen you for a month.

And nothing. I may be paler,

a little sleepy, a little more silent,

but it seems one can live without air."

I had never treated anyone as a means to life before. However, I don't think I had ever encountered this type of illness before. I'd only suffered from mild colds, caught through carelessness, through simple carelessness. But they never had any consequences, there were no complications... And now? Now I wandered aimlessly around my apartment, through the streets, passing so many people—acquaintances or not, but I couldn't see them, couldn't hear what they were saying. I'd created my own world, into which I didn't want to let anyone in. My heart, having lost its grip on me, was frail, devoid of emotion. From a strict dictator who set the rules, it had become a defenseless animal, afraid to stick its nose out of its hole for fear of being hurt. Yet it was still tainted and preferred to die alone rather than share its misfortune with anyone.

And him? I don't really know what he truly thought about all this; I didn't know how he felt about what had happened to us. I had no idea if he was suffering, or if he had infected another soul with the virus, and their hearts were forming another order. I only knew that we would never build a world together again—we would never be given a second chance. I couldn't come to terms with this fact. Over time, I pushed myself into the abyss of despair. I refused to let anyone help me. I thought it would pass; I thought the story about this disease being incurable was completely fabricated, and with time, this strange feeling would subside. After all, time is the best healer; it heals all wounds. But now I could see firsthand that this wasn't true, that nothing could heal me, especially not time.

I couldn't understand why my fate and His took this turn. Why me? Why you? Why us? To this day, I haven't found anyone who can answer these questions. No one knows the correct chemical formula for the reactions that first connect hearts and, after a certain period, separate what they've joined. The resulting byproducts are tears, suffering, and sadness. Nothing more. Why, when we could have walked the paths of a shared, happy life, did it bother us so much? Why can't each heart, individually, strive for complete unity with the other? There always has to be a reason—even the most insignificant one—why our paths diverge. It seems to me that we are ultimately solely to blame for the fact that the final phase of our illness is pain, not joy and eternal happiness.

I don't know why, thanks to the irrational, dictatorial rule of my heart, I suffer now. I can't explain why I so inconsistently obeyed all the rules. I don't know why the loneliness I missed before has now become my worst enemy. It's strange that every time I fall asleep I dream of His presence, and every morning I wake up hoping He'll be there. Meanwhile, every dawn brings the same disappointment... nothing around me but the same, unchanging, oppressive emptiness... Only she surrounds me, only she accompanies me. She has become my true friend, who is by my side day and night, never leaving my side... Only she. Only emptiness. Nothing but her!