The Empty Man

I looked across from where I stood to see an Empty Man staring back at me. Each and every day, the man would stare at me in silence.

“Look,” I said. “Just tell me what you want”. And he looked at me with such longing eyes and spoke.

“Feed me.”

Naturally, I asked him what manner of food he needed.

“Anything. Anything and everything.”

I decided to start small. I fed him the Ms Vicky's jalapeno chips I found in the cupboard. I fed him the sunflower seeds that had been sitting on my bedside table. I fed him the leftover curry I had in my fridge. I cooked up a steak with a side of sauteed mushrooms and fed him that as well. I even took him to my favourite restaurants and fed him sushi, hotpot, and mixed tofu tofu stew.

Are you satisfied, I asked him. And he looked at me with such longing eyes and spoke.

“No.”

I tried a different angle. I opened up my playlist on Spotify and fed him music. I fed him Chance the Rapper’s playful gospel. I fed him the political strife of To Pimp a Butterfly and the eclectic sounds of How To Be A Human Being. I fed him the raw emotion of Madeon, Porter Robinson, Avicii, and any other EDM music I could find. Finally, I fed him upbeat and groovy sounds of J-Pop of the and beautiful brass sounds of Brasstracks.

Do you feel satisfied now, I asked him. And he looked at me with such longing eyes and spoke.

“No.”

This time I looked towards knowledge. I fed him my favourite newsletters: Morning Brew, Stratechery, and any other news on start-ups and business. I fed him beautiful and terrible words of Khaled Hosseni, the darkly satiric Slaughterhouse Five and Cats Cradle, and the imaginative world of The Way of Kings. I took the inspirational stories from Michelle Obama’s Becoming , the moving reflections from When Breathe Becomes Air, and the ancient concepts of the Tao Te Ching. Then I cruised Reddit and Wikipedia. I found the most interesting articles I could find about communism, movie analysis, the history of Japanese imperialism, and the social habits of elephants, and fed it all to him at once.

Are we getting closer, I asked him. And he looked at me with such longing eyes and spoke.

“No.”

And so, I started to feed him experiences. I took him to the Scarborough Bluffs and fed him the intimate beauty of my backyard. We left the country and traveled around the States. I fed him San Francisco, San Diego, and New Orleans. Then I took him to Asia. I fed him the night markets from Taiwan. I fed him Mount Batur in Indonesia. I fed him Victoria’s Peak in Hong Kong. I rented a motorbike in Vietnam and fed him a biking trip across the country. I fed him the 1000 temples in Bagan, Myanmar. I brought him across continents again to Europe. I fed him the abstract and eccentric art of Cubism in Madrid. I fed him weed cafes in Amsterdam. I hiked across five islands in the Cinque Terre and fed him gorgeous views at each one. I fed him thousands of years of history in museums and architecture and paintings and on the streets that we walked on.

You must be full now, I said to him. And he looked at me with such longing eyes and spoke.

“No.”

I was running out of ideas. So I started to feed him something else entirely. I took him by the arm and found him people. People he connected with. People who understood him. I found him friends that cared about him and got into ridiculous adventures together. Friends that he could vulnerable with, stay up all night talking too, spend hours in silence with, and made him feel like he belonged. I found him someone he started to care about much more than a friend. Someone who made him a better person. Someone he wanted to spend all of his time with and wanted to make happy. Someone who looked past everything that he put out in the world and just saw him so plainly for who he really was with nothing but a glance. I found him a family that loved him no matter who he may become or where life may take him.

And I fed him all of these things.

Finally, I looked deep into the mirror standing in front of me. And I asked myself, The Empty Man, the same question I’d been asking all along.

“Are you full yet?”

And The Empty Man looked back at me with such longing eyes and smiled.

“No.”

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