loopin’ the looper

"Does it ever get tiring for you?" I asked.

"Every day, every hour, even every single second of a minute," he replied.

"Why don't you just give up and let go?" I said.

"I can't. I just can't. I want to, but I can't," he answered.

"Don't you see where this is leading you?"

"I do, but my hands are tied—my mind, my soul, my will, even my thoughts are tied."

"Doesn't it eat you up?"

"It does. But I do what I do, and what I do is what I am told to do."

"What do you do?"

"Break him."

"Break who?"

"You don't need to know."

"Why do you break him?"

"Because I am told to."

"What do you do?"

"Fake a life."

"What life?"

"This life.

My smile—it's fake. My appearing as if I'm progressing—it's fake. I think I've gone evil."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he is the last thought before I fall and the first after I rise."

"Why is he so important?"

"Not to me, but to the ones who order me."

"Why can't you leave?"

"But then what would I do?"

"Whatever you like."

"What I like is to run. Running burns calories, and calories come from food. But I have no way to buy food on my own. Not after what I’ve seen. Not after what I’ve done. I can't go back and join the crowd—not when I'd have to start from scratch."

"But at least you'd end the loop."

"You might think that, but then I would become him, and someone else would become me."

"So?"

"I can't fight myself. Even now, I get the bare minimum to survive. If I lose even that, I won’t be stuck—I’ll be underground. First metaphorically. Then literally."

"How did you end up in this situation?"

"The way anyone in this world gets hired—my desperation, their manipulation."

"This is toxic, you know."

"I know."

"What's the way out?"

"For me? None."

"For him?"

"He found it."

"And that makes you envious?"

"Nope."

"Then?"

"I hate him."

"Because he has what you don’t?"

"Because he can. And I can't."

"Who said that?"

"I said that."

"So it's your choice to stay in the loop?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

"Then what is your choice?"

"I don't have a choice. I have a job I hate, but I do it anyway because it brings me the food I need for the calories I burn by running."

"What did he do?"

"He escaped."

"How?"

"Courage."

"You don’t have it?"

"If I had it, I wouldn't be spending what little I get on your food instead of mine."

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

"Mental asylum."

"And if you quit everything?"

"In a broken house. With rusted utensils. Leftover food. Pending electricity bills."

"And if you join the crowd?"

"Lost."

"Is 'lost' worse than all that?"

"Yes."

"Let me ask you a question."

"Go ahead."

"Do you really want help, or do you just want to look like you're seeking help?"

"I don't know. I have to ask."