Chapter Text
I don’t believe you are supposed to remember the time before you were born.
If the beginning itself is so distant that it would be futile straining the mind in an attempt to remember, then thinking there is a possibility that you could recall anything before that is simply ridiculous. Every single property and definition of the word “nonexistence” opposes the idea that one could know what it feels like.
At least, that’s what I think people would tell me.
Sometimes, when the sky is empty enough and my back isn’t burdened by the overbearing gaze of someone I cannot see, I ask. If I’m lucky, eventually my everyday, friendly conversations stray away from the usual topics we always seem to circle back to. When that happens, before they can say goodbye, I try to speak my mind.
I suppose I’m not sure what it is I expect in those moments. I know that nobody is going to be able to answer my questions or understand what it is I am trying to say. Still, maybe I wish that I would be able to see just the slightest bit of discomfort settle in their eyes when I ask such things. Even if it’s just in response to the fact that I’ve said something strange. A sign of hesitation. Acknowledgement.
Instead, I always get the same responses. Indifferent shrugs, sarcastic agreement, laughter—useless dialogue all leading up to some convenient punchline before we part ways again.
So I’m left to my own devices. To reflect internally, to confide only in the one person who can understand me—myself. I know it isn’t good to bottle things up, but what else can I do? Who else will listen?
Every time I find myself thinking about it, I always come to the same conclusion.
They do not think like I do.
I would describe myself as a reserved observer.
Most of the time, I’m self sufficient and highly independent. I’m logical, tenacious, and cautious. I speak what’s on my mind and I don’t bother trying to make my words palatable for other people.
I don’t often show my emotions outwardly. But lately, I have a lot going on deep down.
I haven’t always carried the weight of these memories, these thoughts, these feelings. There was a time I felt and acted just as carefree as everyone else on this island. But there’s always been something. I’ve always known I was just a little different.
For one thing, the Divine One visits me much more often.
The Divine One—it seems that all of my ponderings seem to lead back to Them, in one way or another. Of course they do. They are the center of the universe. They are the ever kind and generous caretaker of everyone on this island, and the sole reason we are able to prosper and live as we do. They are benevolent being whom we collectively owe everything to. They are responsible for the clothes on my back, the roof over my head, and the food that I eat. Everything that I see has been created by the Divine One simply for my pleasure, my comfort, my happiness.
Including myself.
Maybe something that sets me apart from the others on the island is that they don’t know what it was like at the very start.
My first memories—the only way I can describe them is exhilarating. The rush of new information, surroundings, sensations. Every feature on my face felt like they were just now figuring out their place, tingling like how food that had only just finished cooking as a pan would continue to sizzle. My body, confused and unprepared for use yet still subconsciously knowing how to move, the air itself carrying a unique taste and scent that I’ve long since lost… And of course, the Divine One, looking down at me with what I could only assume to be a smile.
Their face, which I could only just make out in the brightness of the room, looked nothing like what I somehow knew mine did. It possessed such detail that it was almost staggering in comparison to everything else I could see. My breath got caught in my throat as I got lost in the sight. Dozens of wrinkles on an asymmetrical canvas, rows of teeth with tiny ridges, millions of hairs covering Their skin and spilling out of the top of Their head, eyes with such variety in hues and shades and shapes and lines that I couldn’t even begin to process—All of it so unbelievably alien, yet somehow so familiar at the same time.
That, I remember thinking as I stared back, could only be the likeness of a God.
Back then, the island was small and desolate, yet full of so much potential. I could feel it. I think we both could.
For such a short, fleeting time, it was just the two of us. There was nobody by my side to reassure that what I was seeing was real and not just a dream too good to be true, there was nothing to do but marvel at the Divine One’s kindness and indulge in Their care.
Food, clothes, furniture, paths—they all came to me so easily, as if They could tell whenever I was starting to want something new. Even my wishes for company were appealed to immediately, and before I knew it the island was full of movement and life.
It’s in these memories that I recall this indescribable feeling of novelty and wonder that nobody else seems to share. Like an organism that has only just been born, a sonata just composed, a statue just sculpted.
Sometimes, if I close my eyes for long enough, I think I can remember the Divine One sculpting me.
However, that, of course, is nonsensical. And I tell myself again, it is pointless to be dwelling on impossible memories like I am.
Perhaps it just stems from my introspective nature.
So, I try to live my life normally despite them. There are many others on the island whom I get along with quite well. They don’t seem at all troubled by the things that keep me up at night. I doubt the thoughts that bother me so much as cross their mind. Even when I bring them up, they still seem as relaxed as could be—and how could I blame them? With so many wonderful things here for us on the island and our needs catered to at every given moment, there is no reason that I should be burdened either. Endless enrichment in the form of friends, hobbies, places, vacations, games…
And The Divine One.
Even after so much time has passed since our first meeting, my reverence for them has not faded. And I do not think it would be unreasonable to say that this attachment is reciprocated—of course, the Divine One has love for us all, but I mean that there’s something different about our relationship, something unique from the rest. I’d go as far as to say that it almost seems They favor me.
Looking at it objectively, I cannot say that from what I’ve observed that the others interact with Them nearly as often. Every morning, I am the first to be greeted when the Divine One comes to visit us. Even when I don’t feel any particular way, I often find myself receiving gifts or even just visits from Them just for what seems like the sake of it. And each time without fail before They depart, They reach out with a heavenly hand to grace me with their loving touch as a goodbye. Even then, after They are no longer making Their presence known, I can sometimes feel the weight of a pair of inconceivable eyes lingering on me.
Such a presence should be comfort enough for me.
There is nothing more to these thoughts.
Yet, I still find myself unable to rest despite these luxuries. My brain is constantly running overtime, unable to ignore this looming feeling of dread. Some nights it only pesters, but on others I think about it endlessly as I lay awake for hours at a time—a trait bestowed upon me by the Divine One quite recently.
Tonight is one of those restless nights.
As I turn about, I think that this cruel routine surely only serves to make my life harder. But if it was the Divine One who chose this for me, then it must have been for a good reason. I wouldn’t dare question Their judgement. It’s always proven to be sound before.
My mind drifts back to a topic I’ve already pondered many times before. These little quirks—how odd it is that whenever the Divine One picks one out for me, it always gives me this sense of fullness. No matter what it is or how it affects me, it makes me feel more like myself, in a way. Even though it’s something new, something that I’ve never considered a part of my personality, it’s as if it was always meant to be there—like a puzzle piece I didn’t know was missing suddenly put into place.
Isn’t it strange? I’ve never struggled with sleep before, this I know for a fact, yet these sleepless hours feel so familiar to me. Looking up at the inky ceiling, the all-encompassing silence cutting into my head, waiting for the gentle touch of sleep to envelop me and take me away from this black void—it feels as if I’ve done this a thousand times before. My eyes try to adjust to the lack of light and make out any form it can in my vision, but there is nothing to see. The Divine One, who only appears to me in darkness, is not with me now.
The Divine One works in mysterious ways. They do things that don’t make sense to me. They make me do things I don’t want to. Sometimes, They leave us alone for days at a time, only to come back and shower us with even more love and attention than before.
Maybe a simple being like myself wouldn’t have the capacity to understand them anyway.
It’s funny, the way I continually run in circles in my mind, worrying myself over the same invisible things day after day, ignoring the real things right in front of me. Maybe I’m not unique—maybe everyone else is just as capable of having these thoughts, and I’m just the only one who would choose to spend my life letting them torment me.
That’s the way I am, after all. A reserved observer. I'm unable to connect with anyone else, so I observe myself instead. Analyze every thought, overthink every interaction, question every part of myself in an attempt to find myself.
Yes, that must be it. It’s just in my nature.
With this final, comforting thought passing through my mind, for now I am finally able to sleep as I imagine the Divine One watching over me.