On Losing My Humanity

A semi-fictional account of an alternative reality.


I just want to be human again.

I once was, you know. I wasn't born human but I became human later. Much later than most, actually. You would think that would be a good thing. More mature than most, so more likely to have it work out. But somehow it still didn't work out.

I shouldn't say I "became human". That sounds like it was something I did. Really it was something she did to me. But I let her do it when I didn't have to, so in a way I kinda did it too. She didn't really do anything either, it just happened. But it wouldn't have happened without her. It's confusing, but it was wonderful, and now it's gone and she's not around to do it again. So I'll have to find somebody else, but there is nobody else. There never was. That's the whole problem.

I wonder now if she became human too. I thought she did at the time, but I realize now that I was blinded by my own humanity. I wouldn't have been able to tell. Probably half the people I've ever thought were human really weren't. You can't really tell.

People don't really understand my situation. I get that. Either they are already human — and therefore feeling good about everything and thinking everybody else does too — or they're not, and can't really understand what it is like. Or why it matters.

I'm beginning to forget, too. It hasn't been very long but I suppose the memory fades quickly as a defence mechanism. This limbo state of no longer human but still feeling it is pure hell. It's almost like torture. No, it IS torture. Or as much as, anyhow.

Not worth harping on it. I've got to get over it. Get on with my non-human existence. I don't know if that's possible but I have to try. Maybe I'll get lucky and find my humanity again. Could be someone else out there who can help, there's no certainty that there's only ever just the one.

Yeah. Right.

Maybe. But It's hard to be hopeful after having lost so much.