Collector

Once upon a time I knew someone ... I knew him quite well, I thought. We were close, then we got closer, and closer ... and it seemed like we will be able to have our world and our little space together. Where "together" was the key word. But I was planning too much for my life. One day, he came to me and said "let's build the world together". And I, wrapped up with my plans for a bright future ... I said "let's build our own worlds first, then we will unite them and we'll have a bigger, better, richer world". He never agreed, but accepted. Next, he was gone - out of my life, out of our little space, out of reach. Just gone. I was alone with my big fancy glittering future plans. They didn't make much sense then, after all ... So I decided I am not worth the trouble - not for me, and not for anybody else. So I just slowly detached from myself ... slowly, and painfully, with calculated cruelty, I have demolished every thing that ever counted for me. Letter by letter, I have erased myself. Until I was just an empty shell - the most comfortable, cold and clean shell you can imagine.

Since then, I am collecting people. One by one, I try to take them close to me, to get me warm and to make me feel alive again. Each and every one of them redefines me ... I collect their image of me and project it on my empty shell. I embrace it as my new self, and I start building up a world around it. It's fake - I know - as most of them don't even realize they are collection items. But somehow all these worlds, and all these alternative futures are my substitute for life. I have a new self every time someone is close to me. I am a new person every time I fall in love again. And again. Don't get me wrong - I am completely honest in my feelings ... but how real can the feelings of an empty shell can be? I get hurt - I cry, and I feel pain ... but I collect the new world and its future - only a fantasy, but oh, what a sweet one.