I Forgot How to Be Human

I can’t remember exactly when I lost it. The feeling is similar to losing your keys or your phone. You think that you have it with you but when you go to grab it you find nothing. There is a sense of panic at first. You could have sworn that you just had it. It feels like someone played a trick on you. Like you’ve been cheated out of something that was yours by right. It's unfair and frustrating. You feel like a fool because you know that the memory you need is in your head somewhere but you just can’t recall it.

I do know that I forgot how to be human sometime between the end of elementary and the start of high school. Maybe I had forgotten it all at once or maybe it just gradually slipped away. I’m not entirely sure. I don’t even remember what caused me to forget. Was it disuse or something else?  I do remember being painfully aware of the absence of that knowledge.

It’s a strange feeling when you’re not human anymore. It’s a numb feeling edged with spikes of anxiety and uncertainty. It’s a haze of confusion that you don’t remember wandering into. It’s fear and insecurity. It’s shame and self-hate. It’s noticing every flaw and mistake but being unable to work up the courage to fix them.

I still have the face of a human. I still have that soft shell of flesh that fools most people. But the shell is weak and fragile. It's very easy to crack it and see the nothing beneath. You crack the shell by asking questions. That’s the easiest way to see who is really a human or not. What did you do over the weekend? What’s your happiest memory? Who’s your best friend? What do you plan to do in the future?  What’s something interesting about yourself? What makes you happy?

Real humans know how to answer these questions but those who have forgotten, like me, we struggle. We have no answers for these simple questions. You must live to be able to answer these questions and we do not live. We exist.

It hurts when people realize that you’re not human. When they peel back the skin and realize there’s nothing inside. Their first reaction is confusion. They’re surprised and puzzled by your nature. It’s like they were reaching for something that was never there and then they go looking for it. Digging deeper into the pit. They’ll ask a few more questions. Studying you to see what you really are. Once they’re sure they become disinterested. That’s the part that hurts the most. Once you lose a person’s interest it's damn near impossible to get it back. After that, they leave to look for someone real. You’re left standing there like an exposed nerve that's been poked and scrutinized.

You feel vulnerable and even emptier than you were before. The void beneath the shell is a glutton and in a constant state of hunger. It gnaws at your insides causing the shell to become thinner. It takes people less time to break me open now. They can see the inhuman thing I am a lot quicker.

The memories of when I still knew how to be human aren’t clear anymore. When I try to recall them they come more like feelings than anything else. They feel full and content. They are attached to a sense of eagerness that is lost to me the same as my humanity.

I do know what it means to be human. I also understand the thing called a monster. The two are nearly identical. Twins that have hated one another since the womb.  Humans and monsters have passion. They have genuine likes and dislikes. They have goals and wants. When I try to think about what I like or what I want it comes out blurry. It’s amorphous and unintelligible. This is how I know I am not one of them. I am the third sibling of human and monster. The rut of the litter unrecognizable and transparent.

Somewhere along the way, I became afraid of humans. They are too much for me. They are too harsh of a reminder of what I am not or what I am so desperate to be. A part of me can’t help but hate them for what they are. That hate turns to shame which feeds the void causing it to grow.

There have been erratic moments in the past when I worked up the energy to try and relearn the forgotten skill of humanity. In my head, the roadwork is so clear. The lessons are so easy to grasp. There have even been humans who have taken pity on me and have tried to show me the errors in my life and the path I must walk. I am grateful for them but it is a cruel thing to have your flaw pointed out by another. It is a cruelty that I cannot withstand and causes me to reject their help. I recede inward away from their touch and try to walk the path alone. But to turn thought into action is frightening. To turn fantasy into reality is daunting. The task seems to be so insurmountable that I run before the first step is taken.

I’ve also tried to abandon the dream. I’ve tried to accept the loss of my humanity and find peace in my despair. That I have failed at as well. When I look back at that endless expanse of darkness I shake. When I contemplate willfully entering the maw of such a beast the thought is too much to bear. I turn my back to it and try and pretend that I’m not being eaten alive. The dream of regaining my humanity is too sweet to let go.

So there I am trapped between the edge of a bottomless ocean and an ever-rising mountain that hides paradise. Too scared to drown and too weak to climb. Or maybe it's the other way around?

 I’m ankle-deep in this black water and it's getting higher. Every time I look at that mountain it seems taller. I know that a choice needs to be made soon or it’ll be made for me. But I’ve become too used to inaction. Static has become my character. All I can do is hope. Hope that I can fill that void and protect my shell. Hope that I can kill the beast before it consumes me. Hope that I can climb that mountain before the water goes over my head. Hope that I can remember how to be human.