Curse of the cockroach

Did you how badarse the cockroaches are? They are able to tolerate weight 900 times of their own. Their endurance to insecticide improves with every generation. They can survive for extended periods of time without their heads and can breathe through skin. Even females do not need males around in order to reproduce. May be that explains why I have been single this long.
Indestructible – very quaint and poetic way of putting it. The bloody cockroaches learn how to build immunity to poison – can you imagine that? Humans have also built immunity to a number of diseases over the course of their lifetime – but anything else? Not really. Am I saying that cockroaches are somewhere a few steps ahead of humans? You bet so. Because the cockroaches’ lifestyle is a tiny bit more complex than that of a fruit fly. There is not much for a cockroach to do anyway – eat, exist in groups of other cockroaches, sleep and not bother about mating – females can already do it on their own. But a human – way too many things to list but I’ll name a few – find a purpose in life and happiness, get friends, find a mate, settle down, pursue a career and a hobby. Add a bucket of emotions to all of that and that’s an intense mixture! So, for cockroaches getting an immunity to their already short lifestyle is enormous comparing to that of humans. Yet, everything else that humans had achieved is nothing but digital toys and gimmicks.
I love using some of those toys though – they help me lift the weight off my mind. Addicting – that is the only resembling quality of the modern gadgets and I can imagine one losing their control over them and being submitted into a box of untangled wires and suppressed emotions. Over time those boxes grow into the coffins that drag the best of our spirit into it. Flashing like a light in front of me is staircase towards the coffin – I have seen it before. I know it because I am already halfway there.
These species are granted with immortality and there can be nothing worse than realising that one is locked within that coffin. What is even worse is to be stuck with an unforgettable list of mistakes one has made in their lives.
Oftentimes humans have that nagging feeling in the back of their necks, almost stinging like a bee, of the unfortunates and they wish they could cut their heads off to live no longer but instead they find themselves being like cockroaches – living headless throughout their life, not seeking forgiveness or looking for a new head to grow.
Some get to dig deep beyond the hard carcass of their coffin in desperation of getting out from the wooden chuckles only to find themselves yet another six feet down under. Madness – this is what awaits everyone who dare to get out. But there is no way out.
I keep on scratching the hard wooden walls of my cell, hoping to scratch deep enough for the soil to bury me in…
To find peace with oneself in the solitude is a challenge. My mind is set on reflecting back on my past only (now that I am the prisoner of the past) and the chain of positive memories flashes so quickly, I only forget them, the more I try to bring them up. All of my mistakes, bad words and undelivered promises punch my head like nails.
On and on it grows like infestation and I have no more head to rip off to ignore the pain. I wish I could have done and said things differently and acted in another way but I cannot go back in time to make everything right. Showing and expressing remorse to the others is an unrecognised virtue and those you did not make it right for also wish for you to have done or said this or that differently. Even if they do not care of my past wrongdoings, I shall never know for sure. All I know is that I still care.
I cannot undo the damage I have done and knowing this, I am damaging myself and others around me even more. I cannot make new acquaintances because every time I start a conversation, my mind and words get filled with regret. Everything I say, feels like I am spitting fire out of my mouth. Anything I think of feels like it is being butchered into thousand pieces and I freeze thoughtless, staring into the emptiness, counting down the minutes till I can walk away and be with myself again. Be with my own little self encased in a giant room that exhales regret of my past.
A strange and new smell enters the place and my skin slowly soaks it in. Is that a new kind of a poison? My limbs start feeling numb and I start panicking. I do not believe that I will be able to live through that poison, so I quickly gather my notes, pencil and start looking around in hopes of a way out. I notice that the poison saturated one of the sides of the paper box and I start scratching my way through it. The number my limbs are feeling, the harder I am punching my way out. I do not know for sure where that will lead me but I am not ready to die not being able to summon the good moments of my life.
I get out and find myself in a huge open space – a human face is locked on me, frozen in fear. I do not believe that the human would like to keep a cockroach as a pet so I am waiting for a moment to run off as fast as I can and search for a new home. The stranger starts backing off, lowering the weapon. I shake the head, that I hold with my limbs, thanking him for letting me out of the box. I guess there is still so much more that I need to learn about humans after all. Thank you, stranger, for gifting me with a great memory – I shall see you soon.

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