better half

the change had been so gradual, so slow and discreet that it was difficult to notice it had even taken place. it was equally hard ,if not impossible, to point out the exact time when it had first occurred, even though there surely had been a moment when the fracture had first emerged. it was a puzzling thought, to think that the personality that now was such a fundamental part of his daily life had not once existed; and even more puzzling that he couldn't remember how it had felt before it did. but he knew that such a reality had been his once, a reality where he had been himself and no one else; and he also knew that there was no going back to that reality.


of course he knew he was running out of time. he was very well aware that the other was eating away of what was his original self, and that eventually it would be the only one left. he reckoned that as long as he remembered the division, as long as his mind was aware of the other to exist  it meant that he was still there, still here; and so he reminded himself of the fact every day, made sure he acknowledged it even if it at times was painful for reasons he couldn't name anymore.

what made it problematic was that it was often easier when the other took over. most of the times he asked it to, whenever the world around him became too much to bear -- he stepped aside like an actor would from a stage at the end of the play, and the other took his place, always without hesitation or objection. the other was stronger, more resilient and more reasonable as well; when the other was in charge, any desires or opinions or selfish needs he may have had were muted, swallowed like a bitter medicine.  as a result what he was to the outside became more cooperative, easier to deal with, more likeable, even.

there had been a time when he had thought that what he wanted or needed was what mattered, and those things would make him happy, and the rest of the world would just order itself around this fact. but slowly, through time and experience and aided by all the snide comments and little remarks and passing sentences he had slowly learnt that this wasn't true. it didn't matter what he wanted, or how we was; what was important was how he fit in the overall scheme of things and how the people around him wanted -- expected -- him to be. and he did want it too, wanted to be what was expected of him because it seemed to be something worth striving for, and it was maybe then that the other had slowly started to wake up.

the bottom line was that he had never wanted to change himself; never felt the need for it. but as it had started to dawn on him that it wasn't his needs or hopes or expressing himself that could have made other people happy, he had allowed the other to be born. the other did what he couldn't, was what he wasn't able to be; and that is why he needed the other even if calling out for it sometimes agitated him so that it was hard to breathe. but he had to, more often and often it seemed these days; had to step aside and allow the other to step in.

he didn't know if other people had their others, too; but if theirs were as seamlessly bound to their original selves as in his own case, well, it would have been impossible to tell. he tried to observe the best he could, pay attention to details but failed every time -- there were no trace of others in the people around him. as time passed he thought about the question less and less, and to the outside world it seemed that whatever burden he had been carrying got lighter; and one day, out of the blue and without any apparent reason, it suddenly appeared that he was a changed man.