The Weight of Zero

Nothing had happened to me. I was born with a defective mind. As my father’s sole contribution to my life knifed its way into my mother’s egg, it unleashed a faulty genetic code that warped the normal brain development of fetus me, growing wrong inside my mother. I was a thing that should never have been.

Years of best-friendness, sisterhood, reduced to a complete communication blackout.

But no, there he is, voluntarily chatting away, asking me if I watch some zombie show. I don’t. (Those shows aren’t all that appealing when you relate more to the zombies than the humans.)

And someone who has never felt it can never understand what the absence of emotion feels like. It is a hopelessness of incomprehensible, unspeakable weight.

And before you make that decision to confide, you need to evaluate the friend and the relationship. Have they proved themselves worthy of you?

The world turned upside down - in a good way - for one black velvet night.