The Insensibles

Any other normal person would have hugged him, kissed him, loved him. But I, I just sat there, looking at him and wondering, wondering why I felt that way.  Or actually, why I didn't felt that way, why I felt the emptiness and the nothingness spread through my body, and the more meaningful his words were, the more lost I became...

And before I could realize it, I was outside.

Outside of me, him and everything. I could see us both there, sitting on his bed, he with his arm around me, me, acting,  with a playful smile, looking down a little bit, and thinking what to do next. Thinking because I had nothing else to do. We, the insensibles, think about everything, we calculate when to blink, how to cross our legs, I have even found myself thinking how will he react if I put mi hand "here", and what effect will that have an hour from now. We think because we can't feel, and we dream about feeling.

I was in the air, in the empty space within his room, I was just like those ghosts of those tales I love so much, of those writers I admire and envy. I was like Scrooge, or any other momentary ghost, floating, being there without them even noticing.

I hate not feeling anything, and I am not the only one, there are many like me in this world, all of us cold, lonely, and introverted, scared, but all of us great actors. I guess that may be if I lived in another place, I could go to Hollywood, as there’s no one better than me when it comes to faking anger, happiness or disappointment. I suppose that many actors are from my tribe, the tribe of "the insensibles" - that is how we call ourselves - because they may do the same thing that I do, fake the emotions, because is the closest you'll ever get of actually feeling it.

He ran his fingers through my hair while slowly leaning towards me, he kissed me, I kissed him. I feel nothing.

At this point I'm already tired of floating around, so I decide to go and sit in the only chair in the room, while watching how we start lying on the bed, never breaking the kiss. We won't have sex, but I'm more comfortable this way.

It's not his fault that I am insensible, he's been doing everything write from the moment we met, but I'm the product of my past, and his past, and probably and more accurately, the product of history. There are many things wrong with this world, and not everyone knows it, as a matter of fact, almost no one knows it. And those who do, become numb just like us, we are the numb being, we are does who realize the injustice, and know that there’s no solution.

We are the tribe of the insensibles, when we became aware of the reality, we wished to forget, and instead we lost the ability to feel that is our sentence, numbness.

Even though I don't love him, I barely now him or like him, I will stuck with him, because he does care about me, and never will I stop trying to loving him, because then, maybe I will be able to return him a little bit of what he has given me.

The End

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