The Curse of Infinity
By Robin Wright
Author's Note: Well, I liked "Alone in This World" and I also liked putting down Link's deeper and human thoughts. So, I decided to continue it. This is rather short, but it is what came to my mind. Please do enjoy it and R&R when you are through. Bon sante. - Robin Wright
I left Malon's soon after the sun rose. It was so beautiful, the way it peaked on the horizon, red, full, a glowing orb of clean fire. I trudged home as that ball of light drew higher and higher in the azure sky. When I reached my treehouse, I crashed onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
All my life I've had dreams. Everyone has them, I know, but the unusual thing is that I have mostly nightmares. I dream about things that no one would want to see. I wish I could have a good dream more often. A lot of people think I'm smart, suave, mentally sound as steel. I hate to say that I am not. I've had so many nervous breakdowns over the course of my existence that I can't count them without the aid of an abacus. Why am I so, for lack of a true description, unstable? To be honest with you...
I'm not sure.
I'm not sure of anything at all. I don't know why I'm here. I have no idea why I live, why I breathe, fear, hate, long, weep. I don't know why I was given the option to be. Sometimes I contemplate my life, what it's really about. Was I born for the sole purpose of being a hero? And if that's so, once my job is done, am I simply going to expire, disappear, waste away? Will I become a nothing? The epiphany of nonexistence? I wish I knew.
Despite my wondering, I think I am doomed to forever repeat my every minute. I will probably never die. Why can't I have that privilege? I worry about death, for that seems better than an eternal existence in this life I've been cursed with. Wanting to die may sound insane to some, but I have repeated my years so many times - gone from child to adult, adult to child, back to adult, then thrust back to the past to live the horrible ten years all over again with Termina in the middle - it's gotten tiring. While my body remains young and in its prime of vitality, my mind has grown old. It is horrible to live in a world where you have to do things over and over. Meeting your friends several times, with them remembering nothing about you. They are prone to the effects of time, but it still hurts for your friends of twenty-five or more years to look at you and say, "Do I know you?"
Currently, I'm living in my third reality. That's right, thirty years of this shit. I'm fed up, to make an immense understatement. Thirty years and I have never learned to read. I should learn though. Thirty years and I still miss my mother. I look in the mirror and wonder how much of my parents is there. You see, I repeat only a certain ten years. I can never repeat the years that matter to me. I can never see my father or my mother again. I know my self better than anyone else in the world, but when I look at my reflection every morning, I see a sad, hardened, lonely stranger. I have a face that I do not know and can never recognize, for I do not know my family. They are the only people in the world, in all that is, that I truly want to know. Yes, the flow of time is harsh, painful. I am a wandering soul who can remember everything that has never happened as far as everyone else knows. Some have grown afraid of me, for they think I posses mystic powers. I know who is going to die when. I know what house will catch fire where. I know events before they happen. Why shouldn't I? I've seen it three times already. You don't forget things that easily. But I've learned to keep my mouth shut. That's partially why not everyone treats me like a plague.
In fact, my main problem is that I can never be alone when I need to be. All of the time I feel so empty, sad, forsaken. Yet, I'm surrounded by girls following me in the town when I'm there to buy simple things like new hose or a bowstring. I smile at them and try to act interested when they tell me about how nice I look. None of them could ever understand me. Not if they tried for thirty years. I guess I do love Malon, as I told her I did. I'm pretty sure that's how love feels. But I see a paradox. As I have said, I've been here for thirty years and more, repeating everything. Despite my longevity, I still am not certain of love. It is an incapability of comprehension on my part. Despite all of the time I've been around, going back and forth, I have not figured love out. Or rather, I haven't had a chance to figure it out. I think the repetition of everything is what forbids me from experiencing the companionship that I crave. That is why I have said that I do not deserve love. I f I did deserve it, I would have taken the time to pursue it by now.
It is a lonely life, to know where you're going to go, what you're going to do, who you're going to meet. It is hard to wake up in the morning with all of this knowledge of things. It is a burden heavier than any other I know. Have you ever had the experience of looking at a person and knowing that they are going to die in the next five minutes? Even if you try to save them? Believe me, I have tried to stop fate, tried to save someone from dying who was supposed to. When I get them out of the way of a charging bull or save them from being impaled by a sword accidently dropped from a window, they take a bite of something and choke to death. Or they trip over a loose stone in the pavement and crack their head open. Fate always gets them, just as it always gets me. I have control of literally nothing, which is why I know I am doomed to save Hyrule for eternity. I am locked in a perpetual rut, a loop that never ends. I don't think I will ever break free. . .