By: Jasper Jose
Everything had slipped away, unnoticed at first, like a flashing light. It was only later that he felt a hollowness where victory could have resided. But alas, he had lost. Another year had passed, wasted away with only a bitterness to cap. It was Saturday evening, the sabbath day. A starless night sky hung over his room as he wasted away on a bed like a carcass. A gym bag slumped in the corner, still packed with his shorts, sneakers, and a jersey that once held his name high. For a few precious hours, they respected him. He had value. He meant something. He could contribute.
Perhaps the fickle nature of it all was something to be admired. Luck and fortune, or whatever her name was, seemed not to miss him.
He stood up from the Mercedes-Benz, which he had sunk some fortune into, and slipped a caffeine pill into his mouth. Did he still have friends? Did he even still have enemies? Whatever the case, he may as well have dropped dead right then and there and left the world like snowmelt.
What is love anyway? To him, it was another, elusive thing that everyone chased and adored, something that seemed a stranger to him. He had no crushes, no friend-zones, nor misreads. He had no interest in girls, nor boys, if the reader was curious about that. Everyone was a blur. Names and features were merely traits in the abstract concept of personhood.
Labels, to him at least, were a temporary and unnecessary obligation in life. Everyone liked to find a box that they fit in and put others into boxes that they seem to fit in. Nevertheless, many branded him as either “boring” or “aroace.”
It was all confusing. Perhaps, he could go see a shrink and understand, but that would cost money. Maybe in some other world that would have been an option, but he did not feel the need to squander wealth so haphazardly when he could simply say to himself, “Sometimes it do be like that.”