The borrower

How long have I been a borrower? How did I become this entity? I’m no longer sure. Time passes me, flows around me in a macabre dance and then moves forward... but I can’t move forward. I’m stuck with this task. The task of removing the weight of the ones that are most hurt.

You could think that, since I have this job, I would eventually succumb to the weight of my knowledge, my pain. Well, not really... After some time you learn to let go of your emotions. I see flashes of them, vibrating with the millions of memories within me. I acknowledge them, and let them go. This has made me into quite the dull... person, I guess? Not sure what I am... Where was I? Oh yes, as I was saying I am no longer able to feel any emotion, can’t really empathise with the ones I help no more... I just know I have to help them. I can’t feel the bliss of looking at a beautiful sunrise next to your soulmate, nor can I feel the sadness of losing that same being in a cold winter night...

You can always recognize those that need help, their eyes look hollow and dead, their shoulders are slumped almost as if they are carrying the whole world in their backs, the faces look pale and ghostly and the legs look ready to fall, to never get back up again. Once I approach them and release them of their painful memories, their contorted expressions turn into ones of confusion at first. Then, the ignorance starts to settle and with it comes the bliss of not knowing the sharp edges of life. Their memories play in my head almost like an endless movie, I see their emotions, feel... try to feel their pain and then let go of them. They mash with the other memories inside me in a chaotic dance of life and death, full of sorrow and despair, but I...

I...

I can’t feel anything.