waiting.

You still fall, this is getting old, and yet here you are. Falling. There is nothing you can do. There is nothing you could hope for, and here you are. In a place which shouldn't exist; doesn't exist. And neither do you.

You wonder why you're here, what willed you to be here, but you know you won't get any answers here. This place is empty.

Are you even falling? It feels like there is gravity but you know that it might just be an illusion. Really you might just be in one place. Never moving. You can't even really "lay down" as there is no ground to lay on. You think it'd be funny to post about this when you get out, if you get out. When people ask where the hell you've been, you can just say "sorry everyone I happened to be in an infinite landscape of nothingness, forever suspended in air and unable to leave!" but you know that if they realize you were serious it wouldn't be funny anymore. You realize that you haven't tried something yet. Throwing something up. You do so. A pen, one of your favorites, one which made nice clean and thick lines while gliding across paper like a goddess. Not that it can anymore as the off-white porous pumice like stone replacing it does not have ink.

The pen is in an infinite loop. It's passing you multiple times a minute. Not slowing down. You have no idea why but atleast that's solved. You're stuck here. Maybe this is where everyone goes when they die. A limbo of nothingness.

Is there not gravity here? Is it just an illusion. Can you really say for sure, are you destined to never know? You could really go for a sandwich now. Nothing special just some meats and cheese with maybe a few sandwich appropriate greenery. Maybe some kind of tangy sauce. Perhaps some fries aswell? Wouldn't that be wonderful.

But no, your here, you can't read a book or really pass the time. You just fall, and fall and fall. You think back to a scene in a game you played before. One where the main character and the antagonist are falling down a shaft. How long did that take for them? 30 seconds or so? Maybe there is just a bottom somewhere here. And you'll be fine.

But you've already fallen for alot longer than they did. You sit there, not really a sit but just falling with your legs crossed, and your head resting on your hands. This is it. Isn't it? It was kind of funny before but now it's just sad. Like "oh yeah sorry kids I'm stuck in an infinite drop forever" turned into simple annoyance.

You wanted to do so much. So much you could've done. So much you probably wouldn't have done even if you never fell into here. Hopefully there is atleast someone else in here. Even if there isn't, probably will be at some point. You don't know the exact science of it, but being stuck in an infinite black expanse will fuck you up.

You are desperate to feel something. Anything. Anything which might stop the monotony. You can't hurt yourself because every blow to a part of you simply does nothing at all. Even now at this point you have to focus on the act of grabbing something to grab it. Otherwise you just... Phase through it? That's probably fine you think to yourself, why wouldn't it be after all. Not like your situation can get any worse... Can it? It feels like you are being consumed. But that might just be the loneliness creeping in. You really can't say, how could you? It's not like there is anyone else here who is able to tell you. Atleast in the dream you could feel pain. Out here? No. It's just empty. You're empty. There is nothing here and no one to help you.

You haven't stopped falling yet.

Atleast that is one constant in this place. You could be as hollow as an inflated balloon, and you would still be falling that's just what you do. Is it not? You used to do other stuff, write. Talk to friends. Get mad about people online. Learned how to cook. All sorts of things. But now all of that feels like a distant memory.

Does it matter any longer what with you here. And not there? Can you really claim to be who you were before as now nothing is what you do. Just sitting there. Waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting until finally.

You land? But that won't happen for a while, now will it? Why would it. No you're falling.

A pillow would be wonderful. Maybe even a blanket. But laying on your arms is atleast something you can do. Until you loose focus and your head falls limp through your arms. That's not at all concerning and completely fine. You know that. Why would this be an issue.

Is this all even happening? You don't know, maybe this is a really bad dream but do dreams go on for this long? What did your friend's faces look like. Who are your parents. As you think on it you realize that you don't remember them.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Why did this happen. Who did this. What did this. You don't even have the assuredness of remembrance to help you. You can remember moments but focusing on any one person isn't feasible. It's just fog.

You are dying. Aren't you. This is what dying is like. What else could it be. You look back on a moment from the past. You were quite young and a grandparent you cared for so much was on a table in the hospital. Lung cancer. Never quite smoking. And they got lung cancer.

It was a sad moment. One predictable and constant. They were unrecognizable on the table that claims to be a bed. Chemotherapy taking that which you cared for. But now the feeling was dulled. You were young hardly remembering anything about it. Just that it happened. You know a bit about them. But does it matter any more? They are dead so very dead and you are not.

Time happens things change no one remains a constant. Even now you shift and your mind undulates and morphs to the situation you are in. Is that not what life is? A constant force upon oneself aging them and making them learn. Is life not just the experiences with others you've made along the way displayed to you through the acts of an imperfect and deeply flawed but distinctly human memory? You don't feel very alive right now. After all. What are you. A being with no name simply falling. What does it matter you had a name. Whatever is here. Whatever this is does not wish for you to know.

You can not hope to understand what this place is only that it's killing you oh so slowly. It was clear before the fall and it is clear now.

What did you do for a living? It's hard to remember. Probably if you had to guess you worked somewhere that was a dead end job. Something barely enough to pay for your expenses. But you can't remember that now, can you? No this place will not grace you with that. Maybe this is all some joke and you'll awake to your friends. Your family. And then what? You hardly know yourself anymore. Let alone other people.

They'll all see the husk which you are. And it wouldn't help them. To see a friend or family member come back wrong and hollow. You laugh at that. A small chuckle. Granted you can't hear yourself in here. There is nothing here after all.

Not even your voice. What did you sound like before. Why don't you know. Did you ever know, was there even a before to this. Or did you simply get born falling. And falling and falling.

Were you even born? Or did you just come into existence by happenstance? No. You've lived a life, but what was that life. Will you ever know? Did your family like you? Your friends? Or did they all just put up with you.

You just want to go back. To a more complex time one where you weren't just falling but could you? How long has it been how long have you been falling. In the end it doesn't matter. You just have. All you can wish now is for things to be different.

Everything else seems unachievable. You don't feel like you should be here. You are pretty sure however you'll continue to be here, on and on and on and on.

Not even your voice to give you company. You might aswell be dead. Nothing. Why aren't you? How are you here existing.

Why is there no one to help. You plead for there to be someone anyone it doesn't matter who. You can't do this anymore not alone it's tough and so, so dark. It feels like there is something watching you. But that might just be you. Why wouldn't there be someone else looking in, it's not like this wasn't a purposeful act to put you in here by someone else.

Did you need to jump in the hole? At the time it felt so final. Like it was what you were meant to do, but now why did that matter. How can you see the things around you. You look on at the pen, it still hasn't slowed down yet. You grab it with all your might and it's clear now. You look at your skin, it has the same off white porous look.

Whatever you are seeing is not meant to be seen. There is something about it, it shouldn't be this way. There is no light and yet you can gaze upon a pen with detail that it doesn't have. You try to click the pen to use it just to see if you can. And it does something. Not what you want. It simply crumbles a bit, the shards that came off of it no longer existing. Not here atleast, the simply fall and never come back.

The pen does not change in appearance. Only feels more empty. You press hard again. It's hollowed out. Another act of destruction it will surely be gone. Where the hell are you and what is it doing to you? You don't know. You can't say. But you click again and it's gone, in it's place is something. But it simply falls through your hands and never comes back.

You aren't anything. Is that why you fall forever. You press hard on your arm with the will to remove. No longer able to physically interact with anything. Not even your own arm. It feels like it's going to crack.

And it shatters the calcified arm, falling down and never coming back. There is no pain no hurt no suffering no happiness just emptiness.

You can't believe it. Is this your way out? Finally after all this time? You go through your body one by one. Breaking each part until you are nothing.

You become nothing.

--- and then you awake. It seems like you went to sleep at some point. Why? You don't know, but you did. The pen is still moving. Your body is fine and looks normal. You still phase through stuff without effort. Including yourself.

It seems like you passed out while laying down. It was one of the more comfortable positions it seems.

You can't really complain. How could you? There is no air to speak complaints into. Atleast the dreams offer a different experience than the usual falling forever and ever.

You wonder if your story will ever be told to anyone. If anyone would care to listen. You know it doesn't matter, after all you aren't getting out of here any time soon and you can't even remember the faces of your family at this point. You might not even be able to speak after this. Your voice has no purpose here.

And you are still falling.