Alone, sitting at a dark wooden table in a gothic dining room, I was acutely aware of the grotesque gargoyles staring at me from their perches in the upper corners of the room. The deathly silence of the space was overshadowed by the sound of rain pelting the vaulted stained glass windows and an occasional rumble of thunder.
Before me on the table was a bowl of crimson soup with ten eyeballs floating in it. As I shifted my gaze about the room, observing the ornate and intricate decor, I noticed that the eyeballs followed my movement, seemingly side-eying me.
Hungry, angry, and isolated, I was ready to feast. I put an eyeball in my mouth and bit down, and it popped in my mouth with a burst of gushing fluid. OM-NOM-NOM. So juicy.
When I swallowed the first eyeball, I was shown a vision. It was several memories of my past, blurred together, where I had been called "creep" simply for side-eyeing or merely glancing at women I had a crush on. These memories stretched back to my childhood, so I knew I had always been perceived as a "creep" for much of my entire life.
I popped a second eyeball in my mouth and, again, I was shown another memory. This one was of an incident I had in my early 20s while working at the local zoo. A female zookeeper complained to my supervisor that I was making her uncomfortable with my staring at her. I had been completely unaware of this, and from then on, I disciplined myself to catch myself when staring at women I found beautiful and intriguing. Apparently, I was a creep and a predator.
The third eyeball was harder to chew, but it showed me another memory from my childhood. I had stolen candy from a 7-11 convenience store, which I gave to my sisters. When I returned later, I was brought into their office, where I was scolded by a cop. From then on, I knew there were consequences for poor choices.
Upon swallowing the fourth eyeball, I was shown yet another blur of childhood memories. While in first or second grade at a neighborhood elementary school, I was kissed by a girl who evidently had a crush on me. Although I had no idea why, I was the one that got disciplined. Upon walking home from school, I was regularly bullied and pushed down by other kids, even as I was completely minding my own business and was oblivious to their reasons for the hate. I was shown other memories, including many other taunts and teases by other kids. So many, in fact, that I could write a book about it.
The fifth, sixth, and seventh eyeballs showed me insights of truths that I had come to accept about my own life. The fifth was a revelation of the fact that I was now 40 years old, and that I had missed out on building a meaningful future with the intent of nurturing intimacy in my 20s and 30s, and that I would NEVER get that time back. The sixth revealed that I had always been perceived by others as a "weirdo", and that I had never been truly accepted and had always been misunderstood. The seventh revealed my sorrowful and melancholic nature, and that I had always been my own savior, stressing myself out for much of my entire life, always having to be my own support system.
The eighth eyeball showed me an insight of perpetuity. I realized that I would always be in an endless cycle of isolation, alienated from the world, incapable of being normal and compliant to complacency.
The ninth eyeball revealed the obscurity of my existence. Why did I allow myself to continue to live in a world where I wasn't truly wanted? Was the sole purpose of my existence merely to be continually isolated from those I truly desired? Where was my future even headed, if there was to be one at all? Did anyone care at all if I lived or died? Would they even notice? Was I always to be perceived as the side-eying weirdo? Was I always meant to exist in the fallacy of finding love and companionship like a normal human being?
The tenth and final eyeball made me aware of my imminent death. I could feel the cyanide I had poured into the soup begin to take affect, and I was reminded that my solitary nature would lead me to die alone, without the presence of any sort of genuinely nurturing soul. I could feel the pain of the poison overtake me, and I knew I deserved this death. I would not live even one more day in pain. NOT. ONE. MORE.
All I had ever wanted was connection and to give love to the right ones.
I keeled over and fell to the floor, now dead at 40 years old, cold and alone.