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Story: Only One
Chapter: 1. Only One
Previous: Preface
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I cannot pretend to believe in life’s singularity when I am the complete opposite of that concept.
Actually, I cannot believe in the concept of singularity at all – except when it means to be on my own. In fact, I enjoy company as little as I enjoy being with myself – only that I have found out, over the years, that being on my own is what makes me reach anything I want, while company is usually just in the way. – A waste of time causing unnecessary delay on the way through whatever you define as life.
I do not want to say that I am a genuine misanthropist. If I choose to make the effort, I excel in social interaction. Especially woman do not only perceive me as exceptionally handsome and dazzling, if not irresistible, but also enjoy conversation with me. The trouble with woman is, however, most of them are hopelessly easy to read, easy to impress and basically just simpleminded. Usually I don’t even have to be overly smart or in any way impressive; simple, easy small talk, a little flirting, a little teasing and – Done! Even today, with all their emancipation and gained strength and status, it is way too easy to impress them. Well, all of that past female effort serves the flirting and teasing quite well, of course, since it is now socially acceptable; but still.
Men, on the opposite, usually resent me for both looks and easy conversation. They easily call me haughty. Arrogant. Self-assured. Just to collect a few more adjectives.
But well, I am: I know who I am and I know what I want.
It’s not my fault I have a few “extras” that enable me to exert that attitude to hardly no limit. Nor is it my fault that these extras happen to make me extremely irresistible. Someone else is to blame for that.
Apart from that, I think I can say I have grown accustomed to this sort of life. I enjoy it as much as I can, and in all its varieties. In other words, I enjoy being the bad guy, and the mysterious, flirty one. I enjoy dazzling people. Teasing. Being and acting mercilessly unpredictable. It’s fun.
You probably want to call me a complete dick. – Trust me: I am. But you know yourself that this is exactly what you think is fascinating about me.
All these circumstances aside: I do prefer keeping to myself, and do so for very good reasons. First of all, I prefer being in control of what happens to me, and I do not tolerate anyone to mess with my plans or to beguile me. Secondly, people, in general, are selfish. I have learned that the best care is to care for oneself, especially when finding out that nobody around you is worth any confidence.
– But this is not the time to place blames, and I was trying to come to another point here: that of singularity.
I asserted above that I do not believe in its concept.
I also made clear that I am a proof to the fact that there is more than one life to deal with, though I am not saying there is more than one life to live.
I do not believe in second chances. Nobody fools me and walks away unpunished. Nobody.
There are plenty of chances for all different kinds of situations, the question is if and how to use them. But there will not be the one chance to save ourselves from virtually anything. In short, what I also do not believe in is the concept of a soul redeemed. I don’t believe that anyone is going to judge what happens to our souls except for ourselves – all we have to do is use our given resources to get to whatever goal they can take us. We are responsible only for ourselves, and life is what you make of it. – And I don’t believe that anyone should make their life dependant on anyone else.
I assume you know the greater part of this story thanks to the whining, self-pitying and gloomy writings of my ‘unfortunate’ little brother. He will have presented me as the unpredictable cold and calculating evil demon that’s haunting him forever. He will have made you believe that I’m the single bearer of responsibility for anything that’s gone bad in his life. In fact, he will have told you that my sole purpose was to destroy his life and make him miserable. I guess he is right when it comes to that. – At least in some sense.
But you know, just because he’s the calm and romantic one who’s spending 95% of the day musing on how unfortunate his life is doesn’t mean he isn’t prejudiced against me, and it certainly doesn’t render him innocent. He might have his reasons to hate me, and I grant him that, really, but all in all I think he is exaggerating. – It’s not like my whole life is revolving around him. I have other things on my mind than making him miserable. But well, let’s put it this way: it’s a nice and entertaining side-effect.
My brother is a hypocrite. He hates me for it because I manage to cope well with everything he tries so eagerly to deny. He resents me for living with a power he isn’t able to use for himself. He envies me because I have learned to be what I am, and he hasn’t.
There was a point in our lives where this was different.
And this is the point that I’m starting off at.
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fact fiction 