I wish I was built with the extraordinary capability to save everyone, but somehow everyone keeps slipping through my fingers, right into the Eater’s mouth.
The Eater is a rather misunderstood creature. He eats memories and feelings, but most importantly he eats away at people. Whenever people are gone or whoever they used to be are gone or you forget something, it’s the Eater who has eaten the Gone People.
He’s this force that is constantly chasing behind you, begging at your feet like a large dog underneath the dinner table. Eventually, he will eat something, even if he has to knock off a few plates. Sometimes, he’ll even break the table.
I have seen him eat person after person, as they fall into his mouth like a stale french fry. And then the person who I was grasping onto to keep from falling is gone, they’re a Gone Person, and there’s nothing underneath be to keep me from the falling, falling, and falling…
You can’t come back from the Eater. You can become a different person and still be alive, but the person you were before is gone. That’s a Gone Person.
He’s always there, waiting to Eat you. Sometimes, it can be a good thing. If you don’t like who you are, you can fall back into him like a cocoon, except with teeth and stomach acid.
The truth is that he’s lonely, and he’s misunderstood. The Gone People keep him company. I have many versions of myself doing so.
You can save people from him, but sometimes you aren’t Enough. And I wish I was Enough, I wish I was bursting with such Enoughness as others do. Trying to save people hurts. I am hurt. I wonder why I am not Enough.
Why am I not brimmed with it so that it topples over when I walk? I want people to come licking up behind me, thirsty for the taste. They’ve never seen such Enoughness before! Amazing!
Why am I so empty, so see-through and paper-thin without the Enoughness, that people slip right through my fingertips?
Sometimes I hate the Eater. I hate him for hurting me like this, but it’s not him. It’s them who led themselves down this path, all the while holding my hand just so I can watch them dangle. It’s a slippery slope down the chair legs, right into the waiting dog’s mouth.
It doesn’t matter. I am still hurt. They are still Gone People.
Who is the Gone Person you speak of, Zoe? People may ask.
Why, I say. It’s me and you and it’s everyone. The Gone is this virus that we breath and we spit and we kiss, it’s in the cracks of your lip and the juice of eye.
We’re all Gone People.
But I forgive you, Eater.
This concept of reasonable cause for lost memories and people is really great. It’s great to think of it in this way, having an actual explanation for something that may be hard to explain otherwise.
Wow. The first line really captured my attention, “I wish I was built with the extraordinary capability to save everyone, but somehow everyone keeps slipping through my fingers,” because it felt like I was saying them with you. I love the way you write, how you take an incredibly (not simple) intangible idea and make it “slip through” your readers’ fingers, and how you create metaphors we all wish to understand, but somehow seem to all find different meanings for. These lines got to me too: “You can save people from him, but sometimes you aren’t Enough. And I wish I was Enough, I wish I was bursting with such Enoughness as others do.” I felt what you were feeling while writing this and (think I) know what you are trying to put across the table (Does that make any sense?). Anyways, I love reading the things you write and am happy you will continue to write this way, in spite of anyone who thinks of your writing differently. 🙂