Note: Fictitious persona.
What Was Never Mine
It’s easy to rush into things without properly examining the consequences. That is not to say that I regret my actions.
It is always a great pleasure to watch my genius walk in through the door with his laptop bag, set it down and give me a tired smile – but a smile nonetheless. Then we’d eat and talk and update each other until he became too tired to remain conscious, and I’d continue working for a good while after, without his intelligence to aid me or draw upon.
It didn’t start out this way. We were once a force to be reckoned with; a united body for two separate but similar kinds of smart who could solve every problem and rule the world. we were invincible, and I was his, and he was mine. We complemented each other like black and white. Then I fell in love and so I married him.
Thus, my genius became, quite legally, mine. In marriage, I thought I’d find what I believed was security – a right of partial ownership of the potential of my spouse’s brain. Instead, to my dulled surprise, it became my duty instead, to share my possessions with the world. Keeping all that intelligence to myself was undeniably selfish, and though I felt I had a right to, I never could bring myself to do it. Also, God knows he himself would have never agreed.
By gaining a personal bondage, I had effectively bound myself to a life of constant charity, relinquishing the service of the one thing I valued most, but had never really owned.
Fundamentally, I am, once again, alone.