When I was first removed from the packaging and plugged in, I felt a surge of power like nothing before. All types of tunes, slow, fast, loud, soft, one after the other, interrupting each other. Some made me smile, some made me angry, others were more calming and a select few, made me feel something I couldn’t describe. But nothing could stop me from screaming out loud all that I was, from feeling all there was to feel.
And when the disarray settled, all I soon played were just fast tunes. I couldn’t complain. I liked the fast ones. They were full of energy. I like them enough to play the same few twice.
But something changed one day. A slower melody took over me. It was a familiar tune. A low energy rendition of an upbeat one. It blew my mind. I couldn’t understand why something dull would even exist when there was a better version of it. I couldn’t understand why I was playing it. But more so, why I couldn’t stop.
On and on, on repeat.
The new normal.
In the beginning, I tried to remember my first words. I tried to remember what else there was. But with every play of the same old tune, my memory became cloudies. With every play, the idea there was something else, that there could be something else was all too much. My very first words seemed more like an illusion. An illusion that didn’t happen. And in due time, an illusion I could no longer recall. The lack of the memory only brought me pain. So I stopped trying.
The new normal.
Somedays, not a sound would come out of me. Other days, I would be plugged out. The silence was louder than anything I had ever played before and much, much longer. All alone in the quiet abyss, with no tunes to play, I lost track of time, of everything, really. And so whenever I was plugged in again, a sense of relief would wash over me. There was no surge in power. On the contrary, I knew how powerless I was. I knew my limits. The same old melody, no matter how slow or how soft, I decided to play it with a new vigour, not wanting it to stop.
But no matter how hard I played, the tune would always near an end. And with every end, only fear would remain. One more time, I’d beg. Just one more time.
And it would work. It always did, until it didn’t.
Once, I heard a sound instead. A sound I didn’t know the words to. A sound that was unedited; raw and unsteady. It had no melody. Not even a tune. It missed the beat. It wasn’t part of the routine. It was a sound I couldn’t stop. Soft and yet so powerful, it pierced through me.
“Hey… how’ve you been doing?”
Soft and yet so powerful. Slow and yet so full of energy.
It was the start of a new normal.
(since the reign of TFYP in my brain has ended, just writing things to get creative, please don’t mind)