I am an old man now. I don’t care about what money is given to me to show up here and be a part of this circus. I am here because I am one of the last of those who truly represented my people. I used to kill people. Rivals, enemies or anyone who would irk me. I could chop their head off with one clean strike. I was feared. Can’t you see it written all over my face?
Then men in trousers and skins fairer than the fairest women came along and gave me opium. Oh it was such a bliss. I could be in another world, away from all those I have killed and those I have killed for. It was like a nectar which was given to me for all the acts of bravery I had performed. Floating in the endless sea of ecstasy, I would leave my body behind.
Then one day, I could not come back. I am stuck outside my own skin. I can see it move and go about but I cannot get in. But thats not all. I can feel its pain. And when the opium starts to drain away from my body, I can feel the pain it is in. In that pain, it tries to pull me back in. It tries to put me back in control. But it is too painful for me to go back. I cannot do it. I would rather abandon my body completely and be here than go back.
And so I am stuck outside, looking at you through the eyes which used to be mine and I have no remorse. I am an old man in an old body and with the years it will perish one day. I wouldn’t be able to see, hear, smell or feel anything. But how different is it from now!
Do you think I would have been happier inside, aware of my constant deterioration, and the fall of the society I was once a part of? Everything dies, but the soul. The soul is hard to kill and harder to find. Believe me. In past years, living outside this body, I have seen the souls of all those whom I killed and dismembered circling around me. They have a lot to say, but I am hard of hearing. All I want is my opium.