He sat there, our protagonist. He looked around for the ocean of hatred that had once driven him, looked inside for the thunder of anger that had once made him stand up against that hatred. He could not find any. His enemies were dead, the demons of the outside world were extinguished. So, was he. He felt empty, as if his reasons for existence had been taken away.
He sat there, our protagonist, thinking about what had gone wrong. He had won all the battles, so why he felt like he had lost the war? He had conquered all frontiers, climbed all the mountains and walked all the paths he had seen, but he felt so unknown to himself.
He sat there, our protagonist, thinking why when there should have been a smirk on his face, a sign of victory well achieved and well deserved, there was nothing but emptiness. Why when there should have been a victorious smile, all he could find was emptiness?
He sat there; our protagonist, thinking why he felt so enervated, when the joy of winning his biggest war should have overwhelmed him. Why he longed for a sense of satisfaction when he should have been rising above all his doubts to feel secured.
He sat there, our protagonist, thinking where he had lost it. Was it when his anger became palpable or was it when he knew his aim was finally achieved? Or was it when he stopped understanding himself and started letting his anger take over? Or is it always like this that the conqueror stands vanquished whenever his enemy gets conquered. But whatever way it is, whatever way it should have been, and whatever way he wanted it to be, he just sat there vanquished, surrendered to his enemy’s defeat and conquered by his victory.
Image Source: http://goo.gl/IwEJEb