"The things they taught you, they’re lining up to haunt you
They’ve got your back against the wall"
"Maybe it’s not the thought of death that they’re afraid of when they see those things. Maybe it’s the fear of the pain derived from the sympathy towards others who went through that pain to meet such a demise."
The statement that made me feel less human. I stopped caring for the pain caused to me. When my body was bloodied, dissected, and torn— I lost my attachments to my own flesh. I abandoned fear of pain and self preservation— to push on, letting scars come as they would, freely. Without fear of torture to myself I forgot how to sympathize with the physical tortures of others. “It’s only my flesh” I thought. I didn’t completely detach. I instead became obsessed with the mind, the psychological state— analytically tearing apart my own stance and the stance of others. In absence of the basic fears of death and pain— Not just absence of fear but refusal to recognize their importance; Has my very humanity still been present or have I become an unmanned logistics drone in a human shell? The doctors and nurses always looked at me in horror as I would walk down their halls— a few would even run at the sight of me. Both them and I had seen a lot of death, but I was the one who came at the aftermath. I resembled what they’d dedicated their lives to combat. No matter the manner of death, my expression stayed plain and footsteps moved steadily. I definitely was no longer human in their eyes.
#humanity in review
#working at a mortuary