Lucy had no idea how sticky identities were. She also didn’t know why they all looked so similar. There were so many stranded identities that clung onto each other here. Every time she reached for one, it would shudder away. Of course, such is the result of phonies and thieves that try to steal these poor identities. Finding an identity was like solving a thousand piece puzzles without hints. Her mind went in a million different directions.
Lucy didn’t remember what happened to her. One minute, she was on cloud nine, the next she was shaking and scratching, and finally – well, she felt nothing. Before this nothingness, all she felt was pure bliss – pure joy. She felt unbreakable, curious, free and risqué. Before that joyfulness, she felt pain — internal and external. She felt pain and immense loneliness. Loneliness she has never experienced before. The one thing that she discovered that tamed the hurt was her pills. They were small blue pills with little smiles — how could she resist them? She thought these pills would save her life.
Of course, it worked for a little while. It made her smile and she felt lifted every now and then, but what happens to a brand new scent after left in a room for a long time? She needed something stronger, something that surely would never disappoint her. This is when she found the gold, nameless pills with the gigantic grins. They even made music-like sounds, which made her feel lifted before they even reached her tongue. Lucy loved these tablets.
What Lucy did not love was the yearning and suffering for them. Whenever they were out of her reach, she felt as though the life had been sucked out of her. She was fired from her job as a pharmacist; since she was caught stealing supplements that she believed could substitute her addiction. A couple of weeks had gone by and she could no longer make ends meet on her rent and since this was the fourth month of living in her apartment rent-free, she had to live on the streets. Lucy felt nothing when her boss fired her or when her landlord kicked her out. However, the second she felt that her golden tablets were threatened — her stomach turned, palms sweated and her heart raced.
The golden pills were her first priority, even when she no longer wanted them to be. They didn’t play rhythmic tunes anymore either. Now, they were loud, annoying and obnoxious. When she tried to drift away from them, their boring talk turned into death threats. “We’ll kill you.” They would say to her. “We’ll let you rot. No one here would mind. You’re worthless.”
She wanted control of her body back but it was too late. Her identity had left her a month ago. It could no longer compete with the pills and it was obvious whom Lucy showed more affection to. If her identity was no longer in use, then it was left with no choice but to break away. The yearning for Lucy’s slightest attention ate her identity alive and when it realized that there was no hope for affection left, the identity knew it was time to leave.
Discovering that her identity was gone was the easy part. She examined her body one morning, looking over her habitual scares and bruises because her attention was on the gap that lay on the left side of her chest. It was not large, but noticeable – one can see through this hole. It was deep, gray and burned, almost as if her identity burned away. The doctors told her that this was what usually happens when an identity goes missing and that she shouldn’t be alarmed. “Check Identity Lot, it should be there – somewhere.” One doctor said.
Lucy knew about this place, but she never imagined that she’d end up going there. The land was covered with miles of stacked identities. “Some been here since the 30’s. ‘Course, they’re all long gone and dead. They just take up space now.” The lot keeper chuckled, which Lucy remained silent to. He cleared his throat, “Well, have a look around. Stay up here. The closer to the gates, the newer the identities are. We close at 9. Let me know if you find it.” When he left, Lucy rummaged through the sticky identities and sad souls, carefully running her fingers over the centers. She remembered what the doctor said: “If it is your identity, it will sink into your fingertip f you touch its center.” Lucy touched many centers that day, many in which squirmed away from the sight of her index finger.
The girl felt hopeless — perhaps her identity was not here. Or, perhaps it was but chose to hide from her. She did not know what to do with her weak limbs or her racing pulse. Without her identity, she was like a puppet; clinging onto anything that would give her some structure. Lucy did not want to go back to the grinning golden pills — they were mean to her and she knew they wouldn’t fill the void in her chest. Lucy wanted to cry but she didn’t because if she did, she would not be able to stop herself. Instead, she sat on the dirty ground, silent and stared coldly at the stack of identities in front of her.
Her mind pondered for a while and she tried to recall that feeling of depression before the pills. It was not even a memory for her because she trained herself to believe that it had never happened. It was easier that way. As she sat, she fixed her eyes on a particular section of identities. There were three joined ones, all beating rhythmically. One was blue, the other orange and the other was purple. The orange one remained still, afraid to move but also completely dependent on the blue one. The blue one jigged some, trying to set free. Lucy thought that maybe this one was hers, but when she touched its center, her fingers slipped through it’s middle and the identity flattened itself on the ground. Finally, she set eyes on the purple one.
She felt in tune with the identity. She could feel it in her gut; this little identity was belonged to her. Why she felt this way? She did not know. Lucy reached her finger out to touch the center of the identity, but as it got close, the purple little glob winced and flattened its shape — it was afraid. This was indeed, her little identity, afraid to go back to what it has known for so many months — loneliness and abandonment. “I’m — sorry.” Lucy said, apologetically. She wanted to say so much more, but her lips were stubborn and chapped and her heart wouldn’t stay still, so all she could say once more was; “I’m so, so sorry. Please — forgive me.” The tiny glob of violet light slowly formed its shape back and moved gently closer to Lucy’s finger. Lucy smiled to herself; finally she could feel herself doing something right.
The identity was not sure if this was the right thing to do, but it knew what Lucy was capable of. It knew that this could be fixed. It could see it in Lucy’s eyes and it could almost experience her pain from all of this. The identity knew that her residency would be its home again. When Lucy felt her identity latching onto her fingertip, she felt safe, secure and renewed. Even though she was still experiencing the God-awful detox, Lucy tried to tame herself. She laid her hand on her chest where her identity has returned and she sighed. Lucy was going to listen to herself now, and her first order of business was to flush those grinning pills down the toilet.
// By Erika.
