Who Am I?

Who am I?

People ask themselves that all the time. Even the wisest of sages, the knowledgeable scholars, and the wisemen of old wouldn't be able to describe in full detail who they truly are, let alone tell others who they are.

The identity of the self is important. It is who they are, the center of their own world. When born into this world, the self is in a clear, pure state. As time passes by, the environment around them shapes them- slowly molds them. Yet, as long as they remember who they are, know what they desire, know what keeps them "them," and keep heart, they will never lose themselves in the face of despair and tragedy.

Instead, they'll become better; far greater than before. 

Those who don't remember; those who are lost; those who lost sight of who they truly are, they fall and become different from who they once were. Slowly but surely, they fall further and further, until one day, they may not be able to recognize themselves.

Now this particular cause, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 don't, because they don't remember.

In the void, they felt teeth ripped into their flesh, pulling and chewing at their very being. Who's teeth was it? There were too many to count.

They felt their insides being pulled out without care, being replaced with something else. Why would whoever was doing it…do it? They had thought this countless times.

They felt their limbs beginning to be pulled, ripped, only to be replaced by something alien and ghastly. Why?

Like a fever dream, they couldn't do anything, and only watched on with a drunken, exhausted feeling. They can't do anything. They had already tried a long, long time ago. When did they try it again? They didn't know when it began, or if it would end, this horrid nightmare of theirs.

They could no longer tell if they were sane or insane. Perhaps it would've been better to go insane.

They don't know if they had an identity, once upon a time. Maybe they did a long time ago. Male? Female? Strange words entered their suffering mind. Pizza? Ice Cream? Happiness? What were they again? Food? They were the only ones being eaten here. Were those who were feasting upon them eating what's left inside them?

Were they…they?

Strange words that seemed familiar, yet unfamiliar, rose into their head from time to time as the pain ensued. Why did they even suddenly think of such a thing? Had they already gone insane? 

Didn't they already think of going insane? They could no longer tell. Were they talking to themselves again, repeating about no longer knowing if they were sane or insane?

The cycle continues, with thoughts continuing to rise, only to be rejected and fall back into the void. 

Even then it still continued. Why? Was it because of hope? What was hope again? Food? It was strange, really, as perhaps going insane would alleviate the pain somewhat- did they not already think about going insane? Weren't they already insane to begin with?

Hope. Who was it that told them to hope? 

Was "hope" something inside them that keeps telling them to keep holding on? To keep living? That soon, everything would end, and everything would soon begin?

They did not understand. Yet, despite all this time- what was time, in such a place?- they prayed- not to a specific god, but to anyone- anything willing to listen, to forgive them of their sins. 

What sins did they commit, exactly? Didn't they already go through this line of thinking hundreds of times? What was it, exactly, that made them keep holding on-

It clicked. They- nay, he remembered.

He-

"Come and get some fish! Freshly caught bass and desponders from straight out of the lake! Get one now for five 𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘥!"

"Corn, corn, cornnnnnn! Freshly picked out from the Farm! Buy one now for only four 𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘥 before they sell out!!"

"Tch, as expected, the Farm is still selling them at such a high price…"

"Don't even get me started on that. Just a couple days ago, the latest promised shipment from the Farm didn't even arrive on time! High quality? Free shipping? What a load of bull."

"Hey, you got a problem with us farmer folk?! Taxes has increased the past years, and the monster infestation-"

"Yeah, yeah, we've all heard that before, and I don't give a rat's ass. What're you gonna do about it?"

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

As a crowd began gathering, roaring and egging on conflict, nearby on the edge of the road, a young man stood there. He looked nothing special, with shaggy-brown hair, a lanky-looking physique, and brown eyes. He looked to be more stunned- dumbfounded by something no one could notice or tell. Those people only take one glance at him before moving on with their lives.

Then, as though something inside him jumpstarted, his eyes began slowly, but surely, moving around. He first looked at the first thing he heard and that came to sight, the source of disturbance: a bunch of rowdy people in a large circle, laughing, yelling, and cheering, waving their hands and fists around with their gaze towards the center.

His nose suddenly wrinkled, as though he had suddenly noticed the mild stench of feces, trash, sweat, and food floating through the air. It was as though he, a city boy, got off the bus, leaving its cool air conditioner, and stepped into the countryside that he's not used to.

As he slowly took in his surroundings, his eyes suddenly dilated. His nose flared, and as his eyes darted back and forth, he instinctively and abruptly reached out his hand and grabbed onto something.

"Huh?"

Hearing the voice, the young man flinched as his eyes slowly made his way from up his arm- that seemed smaller and shorter than normal- to an unfamiliar man. 

He looked to be a well-built, middle-aged-looking person with a well-defined chin that had some stubble, shaggy dark-brown hair, and brown, laid-back eyes. With square shoulders and a height perhaps above six feet, dressed in a collared-white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a brown vest, and a snappy-red tie, and dirt-brown slacks, he looked down at him rather peculiarly with raised eyebrows. 

The young man couldn't help but stare up at him. He looked familiar, but he just can't quite put his finger on it-

"Uh…"

Apparently, the middle-aged man was also strangely tall- just like the other people on the side cheering and on the road, since the young man was as tall as the older man's waist...or his the chest? Can he still trust his own senses, as perhaps he was becoming even more insane, hallucinating even further and seeing double?

The young man regarded him blankly before realization flooded his mind and eyes. Yep, he can't remember jack. Why even bother?

"Excuse me…sir? Mister? Where are we?" 

Although there was a glint of suspicion in his eyes, after the first second of looking down on the young man and sizing him up, it disappeared, and the "Mister" couldn't help but sigh.

"Kid, we're in The Frontier. The Town of Adventurers. Are you alright? Did you get hit on the head or something? Or did you snort some of the 'good stuff?' Reckless kids these days, you know it was outlawed just a week ago, and- tch, now I'm annoyed again..."

The middle-aged man clicked his tongue and ran his fingers through his hair.

Before the man became too suspicious or began ranting about how unfair the law was, the "Kid's" eyes widened before returning to normal. Scratching the back of his head awkwardly, he interrupted him before it could go further.

"Actually, sir, I'm lost, and I'm looking for the way back to the…Orphanage."

The lightbulb inside the man's mind clicked, and the look of realization casted itself across his face.

"Aha, I get it, I get it," he said with a hand held on his chin. Nodding once, he looked down the road, past the unruly crowd, and pointed towards a direction. "Just go down this road, take a left, another left, and then a right, then walk straight down the road and you'll see it up ahead. Couldn't miss it unless you were blind or bad with directions."

Saying that, the middle-aged looking man hummed, sizing him up and down again. "Actually, you know what? I'm not that busy right now, I'll help you out-"

The young man instinctively raised his arms and waved them. "No, it's okay! Really! I…suddenly remembered how to make my way there…"

He spoke in such a tone that anyone else could tell they just wanted to be polite. However, it seemed the "Mister" didn't seem to register that.

"You sure?" the middle-aged man asked rather worryingly. "Although some of the adventurers know what the Orphanage is, these days newcomers have been arriving enmasse. Among them, some might be stupid scoundrels who don't know what's good and may attempt to harm you and the poor girl in some way…"

The young man blinked. Girl? What is this "girl?" this man speaks of? 

He opened his mouth to answer again, to respond-

"We're fine, Mister. It's okay. Sorry to trouble you."

He furrowed his brow. Yes, that was what he had intended to say…but the words never left his mouth at all. Instead, it was as though the new voice connected to him suddenly rose from somewhere…in front of him?

But there's no one there-

With just a slight tilt of his head, looking down, he found the source of the voice.

Sitting on a wheelchair was a girl wearing a simple white T-shirt with a blue skirt that reached knees. Her small, pale hands rested on the wooden armrest, and pale legs dangled down from a wheelchair, mostly covered by long white socks and black shoes.

With her head, covered by long wheat-colored hair that draped down her back until it reached where her waist should be, partly leaned against his chest.

Strangely enough, somehow, he knew "she" was there this whole time, and he spoke through "her." He had just noticed the "girl," as though he had unconsciously ignored it until now and began to manually breathe.

In even more simpler terms, maybe it was something along the lines of ventriloquism?

The throbbing pain in his head increased, just a little. Was he "she?" Was "she" he? Can they all just be as simple as being eaten?

"You sure? I know you're fine, but that kid probably needs some help, taking you out here. Come along with me, kids, I'll take ya back to the Orphanage…"

"See ya around, kid, and make sure you pay attention and take good care of her, alright?"

Before he could say anything else, the man had already left, waving his arm before disappearing within the crowd.

He turned the wheel chair around, and found light green eyes staring back at him. It was a strange feeling- almost as though looking at a mirror. He can easily see his own face and everything that was behind him.

A young, pale, gaunt face, with black hair that reaches his ears, deep brown eyes, and the face of the average common child. Just your standard seemingly malnourished and tired-looking ten-year old boy. At least he thought he looked to be ten, just like the girl sitting in the wheelchair.

Even then, why did he think he looked to be fresh out of adolescence, with a lanky physique and brown hair? 

Raising his own hands, he twisted and turned them, looking at every inch of his small, pale hands, glowing ever so slightly from the bright sunlight.

He can say for sure these are not his hands- at least he thought they weren't, let alone his own small child body.

That answered the question of why everyone looked taller than him, even with two different perspectives, but even then, that leaves the question…

"If this is me…" the girl whispered.

"Then who am I here?" the young man- no, the young boy muttered. 

"And who am I…here?" the young man muttered, only to wince and shiver as the residual sound of his voice echoed within the cold darkness.

He knows better than to make even the quietest of noise in the darkness.

The unseeing eyes, the quiet whispers, the ears in the walls, and the cold embrace- they surrounded him, keeping him company in this dark, rotting dungeon.