Drenched in sweat, I arise from my unnecessary slumber. In an adrenaline rushed panic, I reach for my gun, which lay under pillow, waiting to blow. The cold steel held against my warm temple. The temple, which contains my maddening thoughts – my maddening realities. Worlds that have a billion voices, worlds that inhabit silence, worlds that die and are reborn. My finger makes contact with the key that will open one door and close all others. The voices taunt me, telling me, begging me, to apply four pounds of force. Four pounds and this world of darkness, this world of light, happiness with agony, will all be blown out. Everything I am and cold ever be – dead – like what I was before.
What could have been has been destroyed by decisions. Not mine, but theirs. How can I determine what is me, and what is them? They tell… me?... us – what to do. What to say and what to think. I used to fight them, and in doing so, fought myself, cut, bled, dried up. Giving in to what they want, in turn, allows me freedom… us freedom. Without the gun to my head, how would I keep them in? How would I keep them out? I’m not afraid of them… in fact, they help me every day. Assist my social life, make my independence exciting, and my sex life emotion free. If they help, not hinder, then why hold death to your face? What happens if I don’t? Will I lose them? Will they take full control?
Death makes me conscious. Death gives me power over them. I glance at the clock, 3:43. I’ve only been sleeping for an hour and a half. Sleep comes to me very rarely, after what I did during my stay in Seattle… I remember it too incredibly clearly; same gun, same bullet. Drinking my problems away saved my life. While intoxicated I emptied my piece… put the round in my pocket… then two days later I held the gun up to my head and pulled the trigger… expecting not to see, not to hear, think, or taste, expecting not to feel. I was expecting nothing, yet nothing happened… a simple click, and I opened my eyes. I opened my eyes and saw everything. Nothing had changed.
Since then I have been healthier, yet sicker. Sleep is random, voices are constant, and paranoia is rare. I crawl out of my bed and stumble into my chair parallel to where I sleep. Even in the low light I can recognize the outline of my once sleeping body by the silhouette of sweat. I rest my head on my desk with my gun still in my hand. The wood is cool against my dripping forehead, and with the adrenaline fading I become groggy and sleep deprived. I decide to go calm down with a glass of water, I stand up and start walking to my door. I open the door and take a step out, expecting cold hardwood against my bare feet, before I have a chance to react, I’m falling.
There is no floor under me and as I look up I find myself floating through space. Surrounded by tombstones, hundreds of them, all with my name. All the dates are different, and they are all when I tried killing myself. Days and times I’ve thought about dying. If I were to kill myself then my family would have to see me as that tombstone, marked with the date and time of my suicide. Would they blame themselves? Would they blame me? The feeling of guilt arises. Guilt on what I could’ve destroyed, what I have destroyed. The presence of myself – confusion and panic – yet calm and soothing – surrounds me and intertwines with everything around me.
The space in which I float through, is all contained within a spherical boundary. Small electric charges surge sporadically throughout infinity. The walls are so defined but seem forever out of reach. I turn and find two small spherical gaps in the barrier. I can see two of the same images in the voids. The picture is upside down, but I can make out certain things…. I see a monitor, and books. I realize that I am looking at my desk, from inside myself. Everything is the same as before I fell down into… wherever I am now. I can feel everything going on outside, but I have obvious tunnel vision. I hear an echoing click and the two voids close.
Glancing around the dome in curiosity, I find that all of the tombstones have started breathing. An echoing breath, both simultaneous and spontaneous. One by one the gray tombstones slowly dissolve and gather at the middle of infinity, forming a large coffin. Crafted by voices, thoughts, and feelings. The coffin starts moving toward me slowly but steadily. When it comes into reach, I peer through a gap in between the planks of happiness and despair. What I see is a dimly lit hallway, such as that of an old creaky hotel. One by one doors open in this forever-extending hallway. Dragging out from behind the doors are grotesque yet beautiful creatures. Transparent yet solid, a fake form of a false reality.
Filled with empty fear I turn away, only to find myself trapped in the corridor of paranoia. Backed in a corner, these creatures come nearer and nearer. Trying to consume me and everything around me. In an emotionless panic, I push past them and go through one of the doors. Another hallway, same as the last, doors opening and monsters pouring out. I shove my way through yet again and try another door. The same, no matter where I went, it was always a duplicate from before. More and more demons, increasing exponentially, trampling over each other to get to me. 
Running and running, trying to keep myself from being taken and torn apart. No dead ends and no way out. I hear a thundering noise, like dropping a textbook on carpet. At that moment the demons take me and shred me to pieces, then… I’m outside of the coffin. I’m outside of the coffin of endless demons and eternal hallways… in one piece… unharmed, though I did feel the pain of my limbs getting torn apart. As quickly as I got here, a boom, so massive, so echoing, and blistering, rattles everything.
I see death enter one side and collide with the temple of sorrows, that coffin, which held me prisoner for what felt like eons. The demons are all released and destroyed, creating a wake of agony and peace, rippling throughout – what I now know – my head, my brain, my mind; the harbinger of everything about me. My thoughts, feelings, my interpretations of pain and joy.
What was once my god and savior, is now my victim… but it wasn’t me… was it? Everything, all these worlds turn to dust and flow out of the entry wound. All my pasts, my presents, and my futures… everything that could’ve been, I see escape my grasp. In this rush of events, I find myself alone… with nothing. How did I get here? I need not to ask why this all happened… because it has before… only this time it’s real…. Drenched in sweat, I arise from my unnecessary slumber. In an adrenaline rushed panic, I reach for my gun…