The first thing that came to mind was the Void.
Not that it had ever left , mind you . It was always there, lurking in the far depth of my being , only surfacing from time to time to remind me of its presence if ever contentment deceived me into believing it gone . It was fast to caution that all is illusory , its existence the only truth .
Its ubiquitous existence , by which my self was reflected and my identity conjectured.
It was my guide , the fuel that powered the propulsion of my present from one moment into the next , teasing me with the prospect of completion . A dream so surreal, so abstract and intangible … And yet so real, real by its mere none-existence inducing existence , a physicality I could feel inside the candent translucence of my white skin, pulsing with life , growing larger, wider and stronger , feeding off of the expanding literature ideated to potentially fill it up , unraveling along with the alternating tableau of speculations painted of all that could be …
All that would be,
All that I will be when I was finally complete.
And I wanted it filled.
I wanted it gone .
I wanted it terminated, butchered, assassinated.
I wanted to reach the finality , the big One , the promised One , the One they all spoke of, the One they all said would await me if I worked hard enough, was fast enough, was determined enough…
And I was all those things.
I was the fastest , the hardest working, the most determined of them all – Because I wanted it so badly… craved it … yearned for the authenticity of the transcendental connection it could afford my parched non-being .
The brief moments of doubt quelled fast by the constant flux of ideology prompting me to have faith, to keep going , keep moving forward, you’ll get there, we promise , you’ll get to the next stage .
And like a fool I believed them, molded myself to the image of some messianic archetypal figure , the one , the son, the transcendent.
And it was all done for the Void . My perpetual companion, my friend , my enemy.
If ever there was a god, the Void was He.
It had toyed with me, promising fulfillment, urging me on , conspiring with the walls on my peregrinations , the red walls whose blood spoke of aborted histories , pulsing tunnels that breathed my presence , mystically patterned with the veinous inscriptions of the substance of life .
Told me I was on the right track , there was a light at the end , just keep moving .
And I did.
And I moved .
And I thought of nothing but the promise of realization, of actualization.
And I moved .
And I kept moving,
Until I stood at the brink of emptiness.
Its vacuous expanse a cruel testimony to my failure , the gruesome failure to subscribe to a more fertile illusion.
There , in the vast abyss in front of me ,
There , the Void dwelled .
There, where they said the Ovum would be . My Other half. My Completion.
But the Void was all there was,
All there is,
And it was the Void that I thought of as I perished.
Journal entry of a sperm cell on the wrong end of the cycle.