The thing about poison is that, no matters how healthy one is, there will be some damage. The extent of the damage, in this case, is mostly related to the poison itself, although the health of the subject might play a role. Some poison will kill, some will leave irreparable damage, and some will make one feel very sick, but once it's gone, things are back to normal, maybe even better than before. I cannot say for sure, but I am confident that you are the third kind.
For months I tried to understand what was happening to me, and how could this be happening to me. I was healthy. I made calculated decisions. But, and maybe most importantly, I was sure that I was not the problem. Despite all that, I felt incredibly sick. I felt like I was being slowly killed, and at points I thought life was not worth living anymore, if it meant feeling that amount of awful, for that amount of time. I looked at myself, I tried to understand why I was failing, why I was letting myself slowly die. I felt powerless, but I refused to accept defeat. I fought for my health, I fought for my life. Until I found a way out. Suddenly, I was feeling better. The poison stopped having its effect on me. Now, I just needed time to have it all off my system, until all this became a distant memory of a time I felt unwell.
Now I can see how toxic you were, and not only to me. How much damage just one person made to those around you, those who were not worth your kindness - if there is such thing about you. I was one of your many experiments. But here we are: your lab rats all survived, we are all in each other's lives, we are all stronger than before. And where are you? Trapped in a bottle somewhere? Too coward to come out and look us all in the eye? Too scared to see us all alive and happy, despite your efforts to destroy us? I cannot say for sure, and if I am being completely honest, I don't really care. You are not relevant enough. But it does give me pleasure to see you go through the backdoor, like a horrible diarrhoea which everyone is trying to forget... It does sound very fitting. I wish I was a bigger person, but the truth is that is that I find it satisfying to witness how glad people are, now that you are gone, like a pathogen from which they are very happy to be healed.
Knowing what I now know, I can see how you might try and spin this as you living rent free in my mind, so I want to be very clear that I am not here to give you a stage, to talk about you and give you the power to appear in a space that is mine. This is not about you, this is about me. You are just an extra, a diversion the author creates for a couple of pages to make the story a little more interesting, the thing that nobody will remember when they finish the book. I am just vomiting the last remainings of you out, getting it out of my system. Sadly, it means that I need to discuss you once again whilst you are coming out of my body, but it's a necessary evil to help me heal. An annoying hiccup, which the reader cannot wait to get rid of.
And you don't deserve our gratefulness. Even if, ultimately, it looks like you helped us become better people. Because this is not you, this is us. It's our strength, our willpower, and the networks we built around us. You are just a generic poison, one that one day will be spilled down a toilet and flushed out of this world for good. Until that time, I am sure you will try and poison others. I just hope they are as strong as we are.
Deathly - Aimee Mann
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