Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or Vicious or any of the other
characters there pertaining.
Nightmare's Shadow
Restlessly dreaming of a rainstorm . . .and why? Dreams are only in passé. They have never meant anything to anyone. Then why do we dream? Are we so intellectually weak that we cannot see that our fantasies will never become realities? Are we doomed to be constantly looking back at our past, reliving it day after day, until we die someday? Such torturous truths. Human beings are so weak.
It's really interesting; that coming from a human. And who do I use as a model? There's no one else here but me.
That's not completely true, in fact. Julia's here. She's weak. I wonder if Spike is weak too.
Weakness . . . of all the things I was ever taught, no one ever told me about weakness. Oh, they could talk of morals, of archaic codes, of proud histories, of ancient religions . . . but there was never talk of weakness. And why? Again, I am always asking why. Why talk of morals and codes and so many noble things when the truth is we are all just pathetic humans?
How we have ever survived is still a mystery to me. Surely not to the thanks of somebody like me.
I was never the creator; I was only the destroyer. My destiny was never meant to be a bright one. Destruction is as important as creation. Without death, there could never be life. Without night, there would never be day. Without darkness, there would never be light. I am the other side of the circle, the Yin. Then why am I here, an outcast and a sinner, forsaken by all and loved by none?
How I sometimes wish I could be like he was; a warrior with an inner code, with a living conscience. I have never had a conscience, though I longed for one for many years.
And why should I ask for morals? Morals are just another sign of weakness. It is morals which truly impede us from achieving our goals. The moral society died long ago. So why should I ask for a curse?
Someone once asked if I believe in God. What an absolutely dumb, ambiguous question. Of course I don't believe in God. A better question would be "Do you have faith in anything?" and that question, I must confess, I do.
I have one perhaps-so-called moral that I have always lived by. Acceptance. Acceptance for all of the mistakes I've made, for all the people I've destroyed. Acceptance for Spike, for all he's gone through. Acceptance for Julia, for her decision. I accept anything. There is nothing we can do about the past. We only have choices. More chances to make the same mistakes we've made so many times before.
I for one know I will probably never change. My own weaknesses keep me from progressing. No one ever really changes. They just mill around, pretending that they're going somewhere, just like a little hamster running frantically in a wheel. At the end of the day, we're still just a bunch of filthy, cruel creatures with no aim or direction.
How could there be a God? A God would have saved us or else just damned us all. But here we sit, same as always, going on the best we can.
So am I an atheist? Yes and no. There is no god, this I know. But we are not alone in this place.
Somewhere, out there, perhaps not an entity, but something is looking out for us. It is energy; I can feel energy wherever I go . . . energy from souls, some of it dark, some of it light. I have energy. It's been pulsing through my veins like blood from the day I was born. Every soul possesses energy. Julia possesses energy. Spike possesses energy. I possess energy. But why?
Will I always be asking why?
In faith, I know my answers will never come. I will simply watch them with cold eyes, like a dog out in the rain, waiting for some relief.
I have been cursed with the truth. Perhaps the curse is that I am doomed to bear the truth for the rest of my life.
And where does the energy go when my pathetic life ends? Will it go to some place in which it will live in peace forever? I hope so. Hope . . . what a delusion. Hope is the weakest thing of all, and yet it can never be crushed. Angels spoke of hope . . . and once I listened. But I'm deaf to the voices of angels now.
From the day I was born, I've lived in the shadows. While others could be ignorant and carefree, I was the one who knew the cold, hard truth.
Perhaps I am simple the shadow of a nightmare; dreamed up by some creator, created to be a shadow. In a sense, I have never been my own man, however useless that word may be. I have always lived in the shadow of myself, always trying to erase my tracks in the snows of life, always trying to justify the mistakes I have made. And now all I can do is accept. Accept that there is nothing I can do to change my past, and to accept that I am must live my future, whether that is futility or not.
Because a shadow leaves no footsteps where he walks.
THE END
Nightmare's Shadow
Restlessly dreaming of a rainstorm . . .and why? Dreams are only in passé. They have never meant anything to anyone. Then why do we dream? Are we so intellectually weak that we cannot see that our fantasies will never become realities? Are we doomed to be constantly looking back at our past, reliving it day after day, until we die someday? Such torturous truths. Human beings are so weak.
It's really interesting; that coming from a human. And who do I use as a model? There's no one else here but me.
That's not completely true, in fact. Julia's here. She's weak. I wonder if Spike is weak too.
Weakness . . . of all the things I was ever taught, no one ever told me about weakness. Oh, they could talk of morals, of archaic codes, of proud histories, of ancient religions . . . but there was never talk of weakness. And why? Again, I am always asking why. Why talk of morals and codes and so many noble things when the truth is we are all just pathetic humans?
How we have ever survived is still a mystery to me. Surely not to the thanks of somebody like me.
I was never the creator; I was only the destroyer. My destiny was never meant to be a bright one. Destruction is as important as creation. Without death, there could never be life. Without night, there would never be day. Without darkness, there would never be light. I am the other side of the circle, the Yin. Then why am I here, an outcast and a sinner, forsaken by all and loved by none?
How I sometimes wish I could be like he was; a warrior with an inner code, with a living conscience. I have never had a conscience, though I longed for one for many years.
And why should I ask for morals? Morals are just another sign of weakness. It is morals which truly impede us from achieving our goals. The moral society died long ago. So why should I ask for a curse?
Someone once asked if I believe in God. What an absolutely dumb, ambiguous question. Of course I don't believe in God. A better question would be "Do you have faith in anything?" and that question, I must confess, I do.
I have one perhaps-so-called moral that I have always lived by. Acceptance. Acceptance for all of the mistakes I've made, for all the people I've destroyed. Acceptance for Spike, for all he's gone through. Acceptance for Julia, for her decision. I accept anything. There is nothing we can do about the past. We only have choices. More chances to make the same mistakes we've made so many times before.
I for one know I will probably never change. My own weaknesses keep me from progressing. No one ever really changes. They just mill around, pretending that they're going somewhere, just like a little hamster running frantically in a wheel. At the end of the day, we're still just a bunch of filthy, cruel creatures with no aim or direction.
How could there be a God? A God would have saved us or else just damned us all. But here we sit, same as always, going on the best we can.
So am I an atheist? Yes and no. There is no god, this I know. But we are not alone in this place.
Somewhere, out there, perhaps not an entity, but something is looking out for us. It is energy; I can feel energy wherever I go . . . energy from souls, some of it dark, some of it light. I have energy. It's been pulsing through my veins like blood from the day I was born. Every soul possesses energy. Julia possesses energy. Spike possesses energy. I possess energy. But why?
Will I always be asking why?
In faith, I know my answers will never come. I will simply watch them with cold eyes, like a dog out in the rain, waiting for some relief.
I have been cursed with the truth. Perhaps the curse is that I am doomed to bear the truth for the rest of my life.
And where does the energy go when my pathetic life ends? Will it go to some place in which it will live in peace forever? I hope so. Hope . . . what a delusion. Hope is the weakest thing of all, and yet it can never be crushed. Angels spoke of hope . . . and once I listened. But I'm deaf to the voices of angels now.
From the day I was born, I've lived in the shadows. While others could be ignorant and carefree, I was the one who knew the cold, hard truth.
Perhaps I am simple the shadow of a nightmare; dreamed up by some creator, created to be a shadow. In a sense, I have never been my own man, however useless that word may be. I have always lived in the shadow of myself, always trying to erase my tracks in the snows of life, always trying to justify the mistakes I have made. And now all I can do is accept. Accept that there is nothing I can do to change my past, and to accept that I am must live my future, whether that is futility or not.
Because a shadow leaves no footsteps where he walks.
THE END