Flash Fiction 6

The first time it hurt. The second time was just confusing. The third, well, by then I was getting used to losing myself.

Rage-ometrics. A half joke and half-truth, neither part amusing or factual. My partner used to say that I was more emotion than woman. Not so much human and much more whirlwind of interpersonal destruction.

He was not wrong, but neither was he kind. That friendship would end badly with one of us wielding an ice pick with intention to harm. Telling you which was which would paint an unfair advantage for the other, so I will not reveal it at this time.

It was never my intention to become super human. Here the prefix “super” is defined very strictly by its Latin origins. Above and beyond. More than. Not just a woman anymore. Too many bits to be quite normal.

Once I knew I was no longer like everyone else though, I wore it with style. There are things you don’t let yourself do when you want to blend it. Haircuts that are shied away from. Leather jackets unbought. Body parts unpierced and untattooed. Once I knew I wasn’t normal, I let it all go. I took up three bad habits, but dropped two of them because hard drugs and sex with strangers wasn’t as much fun as I predicted.

I kept the cigarettes.

My partner always used to say I kept the masses nice and safe and ignorant while shielding them from the truth. Never mind that I stopped mass genocide, he had to fixate on the lie. The harm done by untelling.

He always was a cynic, and arrogant to boot. Hypocrite. I was taking on the sins of humanity, not him. It wasn’t him risking his neck. Unkind. As I said. I almost feel bad for going after him with that ice pick. (And here I said I wasn’t going to tell that story.)

In the end though, hollowing myself out was always the hardest part. As much as he made me crazy, he always called me back. Without him, it became harder to hold on to the me-ness. I started wanting to break things all the time, and not just the things I was supposed to break.

But it’s okay, because it wasn’t long after that I discovered the way to keep doing the indispensable task that was eating away at me. This is a universal trick that will surely help not just the above and beyond humans like myself (saving the world one batch of unfelt emotions at a time) but the ignorant masses as well. As such, I will reveal it here.

Every person has the ability to sacrifice ourselves for the greater good, the selfishness to resist, and the good sense to pick when and where we make our final stand. Pick the hill you die on with care. The one I chose is filled with pests and weevils and ingrates. The only reason I don’t abandon it is because I love it so terribly much.

Every time I go, I get a little closer to losing myself, but every time I return I remember why I can’t. Rage-ometrics. Not funny. Not true. But me. At least, for as long as I can hang onto it.