Believe in Bubbles

What does it even mean when someone says, ‘it knocked the wind out of me’? I suppose it means shocked, thrown aback by something unexpected. But it did not feel that way, it did not feel sudden at all. Deflation is the best word for how it felt: slow, compressed, with slight wheezing. My stomach was the balloon, and I can say with almost full certainty, that I wished it left me breathless.

To put it frankly, I did not handle it the best.

I just existed in one spot, waiting, waiting for anything. Anything that would make me see that none of this was actually happening. Nothing whispered comfort to me, the air only holding onto realizations I wished to push to the other end of the room.

Living in a bubble has its perks, it truly does. Floating in a world that revolves around you is only an issue to everyone else, but that is the best part of the bubble, you are too busy floating to care.

However, bubbles have this pesky habit of popping. Believe it or not, for almost an entire lifetime I had convinced myself that I really was that special. Maybe I was all those things I lied about and said I was. Crazier things have happened, stumbling into the truth is far from impossible. It is simply impractical. Impractical is where the magic happens, when things are just uncomfortable enough, complicated enough, achievable enough but always out of reach. Everyone wants to know the truth, but, let’s face it. The truth is often quite dull. Embellishing it only adds the necessary excitement to make it worth dealing with.

Let me begin with what I have learned today that caused such a revelation. I am not immortal. Simple as that. I will be dead by the time I am done telling my story. Depressing, isn’t it? Now some will look back on this life I have lived and wondered how exactly I made it this far. A fair question, and an unfair answer: I don’t know. I stumbled into it, as a matter of fact, wandering in darkened alleys and having an acid flashback will do that to a guy. One minute you are an unemployed sales advisor who decided drinking would make a good hobby, the next, you are earning a phone number amount of money. All gifts from adoring followers all by flashing a smile and lifting a heavy book. Followers who believe with all their hearts that you are in fact, God.

Scoffing at such a thing will not win you a fish at the county fair, there are legions of people who would trade places with me right now if it meant I live for even a second longer. So, if you must. Call me a cult leader, but you would have only scratched the surface of what I truly am.

Sex, money, and politics are no place for anyone’s sound of mind. But boy is it fun. If I were in any other situation these words would never escape my lips, they would simply permeate my actions. Which for some reason made the whole ordeal more acceptable. I think it was because I could make something up. Anything that would justify the abhorrent messes I left behind my heels. It was always vague enough to be easily recited at a moment’s notice, but, and this is my favourite part; it was also complicated enough that no one knew what I was talking about. Though it seems I did too good of a job, because when I got the diagnosis I just laughed at its absurdity. It was not real at that moment, because I said so, and what I say is the truth.

In full honesty, I am not entirely sure exactly what I believe in. Something that many people in my positions would silently admit to. It is funny though. We made the rules, enforced the rules, recited the rules, and forgot the rules in the same breath. Belief is a strange thing, it comes from the fear of being alone. Then it becomes a bond that is near impossible to break; however, believing in something has proven to be difficult for me. At first, I thought I was the second coming, then a messenger from the stars, and eventually landed on the belief that I was the only of my kind. But like I said, I do not even know what I believe, I just wanted to believe in something.

Oddly enough that sparked envy between my followers and myself, my cruelty only fueled by their obedience. As their wide eyes asked for the wool to be wrapped tight. They had something to believe in, and that thing was me.

It is not like I am some sort of monster, a monster does not win the hearts of so many men—a monster lives in their heads. I am a good person, they drove me off the path of the promised…they just made it so easy. Taking knives to books and creating no other ears that were not mine, were all necessary. They needed me. I am sure of it.

Due to recent health issues, I have begun wondering if maybe I should tell them all this before the final drop of air is squeezed out of me. Set them free in a way, pull back the curtain, and tell them it was all just a dream. How it is now time to wake up and smell the coffee, get a real job, and all of that stuff. I thought about that a lot, then I realized how unfair that was to them. They had what I only had as a child, and who was I to take it away from them? Who am I to tell them any different? Even now as I write this in time with the IV droplets, I know that they would be crushed if I were to have a static heart, as theirs would surely follow…probably because I told them to follow me. But that was in the heat of the moment, I am not responsible for their own decisions—especially the ones they make about their lives. Ask any of them, and each and every single one of them will all sing my praises, say all the good I did for them.

This brings me back to the eve of my calling, the night I knew what needed to happen to make the world a better place; a place worthy of a God—a true God. And wondering why could that not be me?

Reflecting on the subject gives me a sense of accomplishment, to think of how far I have come from that harsh reality. I remember it like it was yesterday, freshly laid off, my mistress (her name for the life of me I cannot remember) no longer willing to hear the promise of a diamond ring, my wife more than willing to get rid of hers. After searching for guidance in the reflection of martinis, I found nothing except icing sugar at the end of my nose. It was not till a church opened its doors to me, that a warm embrace held me tight and told me everything was going to be alright. At first, I just went for the entertainment because it was free, and I had nothing better to do. Then I heard the voice, I remember getting upset at first because I was standing at the urinal, the voice said in a tone mimicking whipped cream.

“Be the shepherd that leads the flock.” And I did just that, and it was not that hard. The finances were probably the easiest, I just started charging admission. And like the alpha wolf I am, I took control of those defenseless sheep. I only took the best, the ones who could push us forward, the kind to get on cameras with saucer eyes and shiny teeth to speak only of my praises—and the good of the church. Always for the good of the church. Everything I have ever done in this life is for the good of the church.

If anything, they should thank me, thank me for my decades of servitude to them. All the things I have done for them and yet, I see no true thanks. It is pathetic really, how now they are prepared to put their very lives on the line, all so they can prove their faith in me. But before, before all of this, they were ungrateful parasites feeding off my goodwill. It is truly disgusting when you think about it, if anything, I am the victim here. Those people could not even tie their shoes without me, without me they would be nothing. They are nothing. And I knew that I could be their everything.

I lay in this hospital bed alone, far away from all of those buzzards who wished for this very day. As they all wait for halos or hovercrafts to take them away. Part of me wants someone here, to have something with me. Not this lousy pen that keeps shorting out on ink accompanied by some napkins from the last meal they shoved down my throat. These are no formal last words, I wanted to write something profound and now I am just upset. The worst part is I cannot even complain about it to anyone, night shift does not do their rounds for another couple of hours. Silence is very pervasive in places like these, all you can hear is the slight wheeze of your own breath.

In the next life, I will come back and make things right. I will remove the scum that stuck to my shoes in this one. I will come back eternal, in my true form. I think the world wants me to doubt myself, to test myself in a way—to see if I am truly worthy. I am, this life was simply a time to walk among mortals. Read this, my followers, I had a fault in my heart; however, as I write I see that I am immortal. Though this flesh may fail me I will pull through. I am everlasting, the world will always be just a bit impractical, and I will return, so I can lead you through it all. I promise you, I promise all my devoted followers that I am always going to be with you—watching you, loving you. Put your faith in me, and always believe in me. I will return.    

I will never di-