Echo

(Prompt: A more in-depth, first-person view of Glenn Dunn.)

Letting go is the easiest thing in the world to do. It’s taking up the burden of life again that’s difficult. I’ve spent many years being nothing, being empty, being perfect to whoever needed something perfect…it wasn’t until I could see myself that I saw it for what it was.

When I was young, I was bright and smart and brave and cute. To the girl who lost her kite, I was the reckless tree climber. To the boy who ran into bullies, I was the Dirty Harry hero of the kickball field. To the frustrated teacher, I was the smart-ass with so much potential…by year’s end, I was passing with high marks and her faith was restored. To the principal, I was the pampered lawyer’s son who always had an excuse, and I always did. It was easy back then. It felt right.

It was high school when I realized…when the girls started to look, when the furtive and scared boy dreamed of someone to share his secret. When the team needed a true athlete and the honors society needed an academic decathlete…I was the man they needed, and there was always another place for me to fill, another role to play. I used to think that I loved them all, or that I was the villain they thought I was, or that it was all so very simple. Those crucible years are full of fire and passion, full of confusion. I was never confused. I was never anything.

It was high school when I realized that I didn’t truly care. I was doing what was expected, and because I had no stake, it was easy to pretend. I could bend where others would struggle. I could lie with a heart free of guilt. I was the perfect kiss, the touchdown pass, and the prom king, because I never once had to compromise my spirit. There simply wasn’t enough inside me to compromise. It wasn’t until recently that this scared me. Back then, I thought that I was comfortable and perfect. Perhaps I was.

I killed a cat once, to see if I’d get some sick, serial killer thrill at some act of God. Instead, I watched the fur stain and smelled the stink of death, and for a moment, I wondered if the cat even knew what to think of me. I certainly didn’t. I haven’t harmed another creature that wasn’t on a menu since.

College was easy. I developed a system of score, because I was bored. My thesis statement that never went to any professor was on social economics. I could assign value, read the supply and demand for words, feelings, and actions. It came naturally to me, and without a heart to get in the way, I scored high. I made the right connections. I passed the right tests with the right help. I went to the right parties. Then, I dropped out.

At the time, I didn’t know why I did. My father was furious, swearing to cut me off if I didn’t take a ground-level job for his firm. The choice was simple math, so there I was. I still went to parties. I took classes at night, worth far less prestige but where I met a different class of people. My portfolio expanded. I’d quit because I didn’t care about the score, not really. I cared about being comfortable, challenged. I wanted to grow.

I wanted to win. Until it happened, however, I had no endgame. I had no idea what winning meant. Was it happiness? I had never been happy, so I had no way of knowing. Was it wealth? That path felt too easy, and a game of diminishing returns. Power? I had power, all that I needed to secure the life I wished. I had no ego to stroke with excess. What, then, did it mean to mean, to a man without a soul?

When you descended, I learned the answer. Your fall, the flame of your blood and the smoke of your tears – they gave me my answer.

Until we found each other, there was no victory. Now, with a purity that has never touched this world, I feel. My economics are ablaze with sensation, and a sense of justice that cannot compromise. I give you a path and you give me a destination.

I was an echo chamber, and now I have a song. I am possessed. I am your possession. I now possess what you represent, and you possess a form beyond abstraction. We are, and we are mighty.

Thank you.