Ah, darkness, ye old friend of mine, from the flowery death bed to the flowerly dead on bed. Why is it that you scare me so?

Was it due to the secrets you hold? Was it the truths I know but dare not speak?

Am I seeking answers or was I seeking refuge?

Within the land of the unseen, I saw calmness and I saw blatant terror. Duality lay here at its core─a spectrum polar, bipolar, conflicted about not being conflicted, now.

The emotions dance amidst the melatonin and cortisol as a whole. A wish misconstrued, the past shakes the future’s hand; neither claims custody of the present.

Darkness, the friendly foe, offered my everything a little something of nothing.

Caught between the fronts, am I the child of a messy divorce?

Divorced from reality, just another substitution, a solar-powered light bulb shining the most in total darkness. Pocket change surely did not burn the brightest.

The change in this unmoving perspective…was it sheepish in wolf’s clothing, or a bean eath, a mattress to slumber upon? Jack’s pea sprouted atop a giants’ corpse's shoulders to stand upon, so that the Goliath’s castle in the sky may hit me with 2 birds and one kidney stone.

But, I am no David, there is no aim. The target is elusive, the fairytale murdered like Jack and like the princess’ pea it was felt. It was hard to shoulder; it was harder to stand.

Put less eloquently: was it innocence dressed as danger or was the nightmare greeting me as a pure maiden?

Speaking in riddles, hiding behind vague comparisons, would result in the same always.

The darkness scared me; being alone with my thoughts scared me. I was afraid of the answers that would come out of this. It could be a light at the end of a tunnel, or it could swallow me whole, destroying the last bit of hope.

Addressing the obvious brought me no comfort, no liberation.

The thoughts simply existed. In my mind, without direction or guidance, they should find the place of hurt. As they did, as is tradition.

It was inevitable, the situation offered little alternatives.

Yet, it took its time. I considered the why, but a search for it was quickly dismissed. The emotional did not mix with the logical; otherwise, circumstances would have differed greatly.

An existence of perhaps much greater quality, I can only assume.

That would be normal. Normal is fun, normal is what we, as humans, desire. Normal? We do not do that here.

Would that not be crazy? A normal thing, being the norm?

Just me and this perfect pit of black, waiting for my emotions to bless with the years of suppressed feelings. I could hardly wait, I had to, I had to.

Surely, it will happen.

Surely, I will know…how…it…feels.

Time to wait in this beautiful scenery of absolute black. I will see, I will feel, I will see how to feel, I will feel what I see. No more riddles, no more lies, this is my paradise.

This was just a joke. Why would I be this crazy? I am just abnormal, as I was always.

I just liked to smile, everything's better with a smile. A smile makes people happy. Happy people have happy minds. A great way to kill some time, being this smiley.

Who would believe me to be insane? How preposterous. Oops, I used a big word again, can’t slip into bad habits again. This was not okay!

The old me was dead, I was a new me. Not once had I cursed again, not once did I dream again. My hope, I kept it buried…reeeeaaaal deep.

I used to think that would make a difference: Fake it, I made it.

The faces back then and there, the mask worn now…do tell me, darkness, what is the real one you see?

The perfect pitch black before my eyes carried the name Eigengrau and Eigengrau did not show me an answer.

Eigengrau saw my true colours. Eigengrau, was the name of the colour we humans saw when our eyes were closed.

Normal, as it turned out, was just one shut-eye away. It did hurt to not be special─ to feel so different, yet be one of them. Maybe I just wanted to be and feel different; could someone explain to me why I did not fit in?

Not so special now, aren’t we?

My thoughts went their separate ways; flowed on into whatever direction that pleased.

The body breathed steadily, I wonder where did I go wrong?

My breathing entered my ears, no transitions, no fancy, faked words to describe how I captured my world.

The basic words to put pain, emotions and impressions into being, I did not need to hide.

My narration of my thoughts and my world lose their charm and their quality, the pain in the lungs burned. Be happy, feel happy.

Oh golly, my jolly folly. No control, a hyperbole, over my soul. Was the goal, a sweet carole, a walk over hot coal? Where was the stop? Where did I need to get off?

The skin tingled as warm blood made its way through, I think I am doing okay.

My brain just did what it knew, what it was used to. The thoughts were agape because nothing was felt.

The words repeated, sentence structures repeated, my body existed and many things were felt. It used to sound good in my mind, but what for?

My world stood still, silently it stood still…painful was each breath, the lungs burning under the effort. The nostrils enjoyed the smell of passing spring.

Saliva stopped the burning throat, the gulp fanning the flames. I have expectations.

The air smelled like the air, we all know and tasted like it. My air was air here; the body was living strong.

Rien ne va plus, the roulette spun, spun, spin my head right round, baby!

My thoughts were free. The Free was in my mind. The structure was here to not ruin the mood. My mood was fine, I suppose, the difference did not know any better, I had never learned to distinguish.

The green grass tickled my face, itch blessed my nose, my arms wanted to move, they were bound.

I ran from my feelings, so that they could fly. I could not run now, was the fly swatted?

Just do not think, try to see and feel. Focus on the breaths taken, focus on the outside sensation. Feel the body, notice the feelings.

Cold air, hot air. Warm blood, cold blood in tied arms. Sound in the ear, sound in the air. My heart beat, my heart beat.

Cold air, hot air. In Eigengrau flashes colour. Sound in the ear, sound in the air. My heart beat, my heartbeat.

Heavy the body, sinking down. A warm embrace. Heavy the eyelids. Chest rose, chest sank. Hot air, cold air. Little sound, little sound. A warm blanket.

A bed of feathers, a pillow of silk, embers in the fireplace, snow fallen on a silent landscape. A dream, dozed off.

Feelings not felt, but perceived.

Hot air, cold air…hot air…cold air. Hot air…cold air… … …

My eyes were opened to my sister feeding my soup. The sleep was nice, the soup was not nice. Once again I ate, but the taste was the same nonetheless. Their ability to cook did not magically improve over one night of sleep.

Whole feeding act passed on without any problems. She stared at me, I stared at her. Food carried on a wooden spoon arrived in my mouth and its contents were swallowed.

Same as yesterday, same as before.

The shock of worried faces arriving at the scene? Nonexistent. Old people come in, parents stand at the side. Hymns are sung, prayers are directed. The intense bondage session with green fruits and grasses was truly one of those experiences of all time.

Viewing the scene through detached lenses made it seem strange. It became much like a force of nature, always there…not to be understood. At the end of the day, the same darkness greeted me.

The whole process still appeared a lot more bearable the second time around. Was that the right word?

I still did not understand the ins and outs of this creative interpretation symbolising something of importance for this strange and mysterious society. Yet, I erased the notion that there was a need to do so.

A lot of time was spent staring into the darkness, hoping that an answer would come.

Waiting might never have been my strong suit, though it was not as hard here. I just thought a bit, waited a bit and if the waiting did not help? Then I waited for tomorrow, for more soup and to have another go.

The answer was like a distant cousin in prison and nobody knew when it had done its time. So, I just hoped it would come knocking when the time is due.

Before Logos’ promised “happy world end” would jump out of the wedlock, ideally.

With the thought that everything was just about to end and suddenly not being able to feel a thing. I simply tried my best. It was scary and yet it did remove the tension. One second, I would be thinking and the next…

Yup, just a big old long period of silence.

And ye wouldn’t feel a single thing.

Fun thought: the guy with a warped understanding of emotions would suddenly feel not at all.

That’s one hell of a “be careful of what you wish for” in the making right there.

On the topic of new, old feelings, recent times have been interesting. It was nice to get in touch with the body, feel all these different things. One really can come in tune with their new and old body in doing so.

The old priest thingy, safe for its actual purpose, did good. One could get pretty used to it. A little moan of enjoyment slipped out of my mouth during the second session.

People might really splurge and willingly drop hard-earned money on treatment of whatever alternative medicine this could be and I could understand them.

Cheers to that kind of eye-opening experience. No need to ever sleep with one eye open again.

All things considered, life was enjoyable.

Which was pretty weird, not going to lie there. Outright calling this sort of feeling happiness would be a stretch; It was more a sense of satisfaction at the absence of the usual suspects.

The sads, the pains, did not bring the noose and the dangly chair.

To my surprise, this did not devolve the expresso depresso route. Don’t know why and I do not care. Give me a chance to enjoy this, damn it. We all know it is gonna get worse again.

So just let me have it.

And before I knew it, the light of day fell on the soup again.

It was not much of a conscious development. It just happened to come to. One day quickly became two and soon turned into three. Other happenings aligned in the known order and passed by without fail.

Priests and parents came in again after the soup went down my throat. The intense green appeared less poisonous after many spoonfuls. The weird antics boiled down to daily entertainment.

Life was simple, it passed by.

Life followed an order, it was in order.

Life felt easy, life felt structured?

In hindsight it was a strange state of being. I did not find it offputting, it was more an outcome, which I found handy? Was it more an acceptance than it was a resignation?

Maybe the two sides of the coin meant nothing if I had already paid the price. I was living out the consequences of the extremes. With me or without me, the day happened.

I was the observer.

…not in that sense. More like a mime watching a play?

The mime was present and could see the play. The mime was not expected and intended to speak. The mime thought, but would always be stuck in its box.

A box made for a happy daily play, the actors, the food were___ interesting, yet the events could be deemed acceptable.

To be normal, the mime must think outside of its box.

There was no need to box myself through, or to box in. Average would be found; alternatively, it would not. Change was the likely outcome in this entire situation.

Change of perspective, change in definition, change of all kinds came from something done on the outside. In conclusion, I could only take things as they were.

The kingdom of grey was now bright and dark. It was less depressive and also less expressive. The colours shown in daylight, and the darkness in the night, merely filled the void but could not replace it.

The noise on the outside reaffirms. Daily life, daily struggle, persists. I wonder, is it the cause or is it just me who just sees, and just realises things. What am I to do?

Clang and clatter confirm what the eyes got used to.

I start to wonder, am I changing? Or was I changing? Had I changed? I did not know. I do not know.

These days passed on by. My presence, as a witness, was quickly forgotten. Every knowledge, everything that my mind had, did not seem to matter in the slightest. One would wish for answers—if there were any.

Things happen and I call that my life. It is enjoyable, if one can see it so. But, there is nothing beyond that. There is no bigger picture. There is just me, the soup, the people, the light, and the darkness. There is no life beyond this. There is nothing that fills the bigger picture.

It sounds sad, but is it? was it? To me, it seems like there should be a profound sadness to the state I'm in. Yet I'm happy. Or rather, I should be happy... What do I feel?

This world presented in easy words, felt more complicated than ever.

Putting everything into words, capturing these supposed feelings, these impressions in my mind—I can not do it justice. No words could ever do that. No, maybe I'm just not smart enough. Maybe, I'm just too dumb to understand these things.

Still, there is a sense of peace and calm in the known rituals. There is enjoyment in the not-so-tasty soup. With the green slapstick, one could relax a bit.

Knowing that this world could end at any moment, was oddly comforting to the soul... gave it a sense of closure.

The merit of that was as subjective as it was debatable.

To see the world like others do? A noble goal, worth the weight of the paper it was drawn upon.

The question remains: what do others see in this?

Some might feel happy, some might feel sad. Most should be confused, worried and afraid. What would they feel, if they saw the world like I did and shared my experiences?

My guess…

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

I guess, nothing would really change. Our worlds were just too different. They could never be in my shoes. If they knew about the past, saw the world like I did and tried their best to understand.

Same problem, same issue.

They could never truly be me.

What many consider the normal is hidden behind countless unique views that come together to form the average that most seem to know well.

Days have passed, I have slept, I have felt; hours, minutes, seconds were passing, when I see and when I do not. Subtle differences were the only evidence needed.

Necessary in the beginning, a waste of attention now. The situation lived shifted the outlook, changing things in the process.

A natural process, indeed.

These thoughts here, I find it hard to place them in any order. They just so happen as the acts of life happen. Before is after and after is soon before.

There may be minutes, hours or more in between them. A chronological aspect did not apply at these very fleeting seconds when this thought was born.

The reply to it, came following a soft massage of green leaves that lulled me to sleep yet again.

Change was imminent, the perception of it arrived slowly.

The priest, in a moment of happiness, slapped me with lesser strength, usually her mood spoke with stronger ones─turning my brain into the consistency of jello. If the girl, my sister, was sad she fed me at a slower pace, if not the cutlery reached Mach 3.

The father had lighter footsteps, the mother’s were heavier. Reversed when the mood called for it. Everyone had their own sounds and clues.

One could easily deduce whether this would be a good day, a bad day, or a day for dissociation and introspection based on the noise they produced.

They all had their profiles, they all acted true to these.

That might be a misinterpretation of the facts at hand; it lacked conclusive proof...

It is just my interpretation, my take, on what these others might feel. I can't look in their heads, I just can't. All that was left for me to do, is having a guess.

They smile if they feel happiness. They laugh if something is funny. They cry when they are sad.

All of these emotions of them, I do not experience them, but I can see it on their face. They seem so raw, so precious. Almost, it appeared genuine in origin.

How pathetic that I must cling to these little details to presume my mental state. Was this still okay? I like how things were and how they are, but it feels like I'm grasping at straws here.

Rather than grasping my personal truths that continue to dodge me.

It may seem like everything I did desire is within my grasp. So far away, it was so far away for me. I'm still tied to this bed, and my body and I cannot stand it.

I'm breaking, something is slipping. Of course, there was no known cause, know why? No one did.

Could someone tell me why my brain is feeling like it's torn apart into countless pieces?

A natural consequence, a natural development. Everything followed a natural order, and I just had to accept the things for what they are and would be. There was no choice, there was no alternative, there was no other option.

We call that life.

Just grin, just embrace, just endure. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, or it was just tunnel vision, a train speeding towards you. Anyhow, my problems would soon be no more.

Time changed me more, with each passing day; there seemed to be a pattern. I understood some words, at least it made sense to me. Soup meant something like Katoosh? in their language. At least, that was the name for the liquid used when soup was close by.

Katouche? Catoosh? That did sound off, did it not? Would somebody sane associate soup with Catouche? I could not tell.

The arrival of the priests with their green grew less and less. The reason behind it, the mime in the box did not know. Was it related to that change on the inside?

In a sense, there was a tinge, the faintest sliver of happiness sleeping in my neurons…Maybe it was just that no other emotion was currently active. Maybe that was the reason why I perceived it in the first place… being normal like this, was not the normal I was after.

This was just a different flavour of normal, the sugar-free alternative, which promised the world on the porcelain throne to me. Digesting this idea of normal was not an allegory, it was an allergy.

Time continued to run forward, like a sprinter in a rocket-powered wheelchair. I have no idea how much time was spent thinking, trying to rationalise everything. There was no clear purpose to all of it.

I was in my bed, I was in my darkness, I was surrounded by the details I had grown accustomed to. I learned about their emotions, and I learned what I wanted to learn from them.

What else? I did not know what else I should have expected. Since then, I should have known that this would have been the obvious outcome to this silly scenario.

Did I have hopes and dreams, or some other strange feeling that made me see it differently than it truly was? How strange, I cannot tell, why I am that blind to the affairs of others. Why did the world around me seem strange to me, like I was no part of it, not a part of the system, at all?

I was just a foreigner in a foreign world, not knowing any better, and not knowing what people wanted from him. He was confused, he was alone, and he did not know where his life would lead him. Same as me, same as me.

I was still waiting for some kind of miracle. Something that would cure me, allow me to be one of them. Of course, such a thing did not exist. As much as I wanted to, I did not understand them, and merely heard a few words, when trying to understand and make light of all the creatures that stood before me. Such was life.

The more things change, the more I am reminded that I still stay the same.

On the surface I might seem different. This body felt a little less pain, a little less burning nerves; it felt a little bit healthier. But that was just a fluke. Something else would soon make itself heard! If it did not run the nerves into the ground, it ran another part of the body.

The skin tingled, the skin burned, or did it die?

I could not tell. At times I was hurting. I did not know what was hurting. There was something wrong with me. And that was not a metaphor. There was something wrong with me, and I did not know what it was.

Again, time fixed me. No idea what it was, what had been fixed. I have no idea about anything. I was fixed, that is all that I know, else I would have felt it.

In between green, happy feelings and other talks of family chatter about things, it happened. In between those talks, I healed; it is not known what happened, I don't know what healed me. All I know is that I did. Healed with something, by them? by something? What is the what, and who is the who?

I'm trying to retain my sanity. It is slipping. I'm trying to retain, remain calm. But, I find myself unable to do that. Why? I don't know. I really don't know. Could somebody please explain to me what is going on in my head? With my body? With everything? I would like to know what exactly is going on here. I really, really, really want to know.

I’ve learnt my lesson. I stopped trying. It would be fixed. And it would come. Why? How? Those things did not matter. It would come. It would happen. Whether I liked it or not. I would be fixed. I would be better.

I did not like this feeling of better, or at least I did not think I liked it. I had to give it a shot. I did not know whether I liked it or not, I needed to make the experience. I liked it. I liked it not. I liked that I liked it not. I did not like that I did like it. It was confusing.

Times were confusing.

I opened my eyes, best decision to date, I was confused, I felt overwhelmed the more I saw. It was comforting to see the darkness. I wanted to see more of it. Sadly, the sun forced me to see more, more than I would ever like to see. They forced me to keep my eyes open, to see the world.

That was not the end of it, no. They forced me. I learnt more of their language, more associations, more guesses as to what they could mean. Was I right? Were they right? I did not know. I did not know! Can someone please explain? I must know. I must know!

Please help me figure it out. I just want to know what is going on. This confusion, I cannot do it anymore. Please just someone, something, anything. Please fix me. I want to be better and not be broken in ways that I can not define.

I was better. Yeah, one could say I was better, yes. One could say that. Feeling, that was fun. I understand. Saw most of them. I got a part of it? Bits of it? Some of it?

I do not know. But I would hopefully know. That is just how it is. The situation did develop greatly. I learnt more, saw more, ate more.

I was happy. At least, I think I was happy. They told me I was happy, and so they must call this happy. I should be happy. This must be happy. I ought to be happy. I was not happy, but I should be happy. I felt something they would not call happy.

Or what did they feel, to feel like I felt happy? Was this my idea of happy? Was it their idea that I was made of happiness? I did not know. I fainted or felt something, but was that happy?

Life was good. Life was good. Life was good. Life was good. They kept telling me this. But was I happy because life was good? I kept telling myself this. It is told to me. I keep on telling. Did it become truth? Does it? Does it? Is this my personal truth?

Please, feel free to tell me. Please make me understand. I truly wish to know. I truly wish to feel. Make me feel it. Make. Me. Feel. It. Please… I ask of you, I beg of you. Please fix whatever is going on.

Am I happy now?

Was it just a fantasy? Or one of those dreams that anchored me to my misery?

What was the dream again... Someone spoke to me. Kept telling me, kept yelling at me─there was something it wished for. A voice inside me, that exists for no other purpose.

There was something it told me. It was, pieces of a voice at first. It grew clearer. I heard more. I did not understand, though I think I need to.

I felt that desire, its intensity… I did not know what to make out of it. There was this deep desire inherent to it.

I could not sleep those nights, when I felt it.

It stole from me, my illusion of happiness that persisted for so long was robbed.

Why could that voice, that man, not let me be happy? Even if it was a fake happiness, why was I not allowed this brief moment? To just feel like someone else, to just be like someone else for a change?

No, I could never have that. No, that was not something I earned. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. We are not in a world, in a space where there is kindness.

These things have to be earned. In some shape or form. I don’t know what I have to do. But I will earn it. I will earn me that happiness, even if it is the last thing I would have to do.

--------------

All right, brain hold your horses for a darn minute. I do think we are currently moving in the wrong direction. Dissociating and living from food to food was just a temporary solution, which was supposed to last till Logos pulled the Great Plug.

Yeah, remember when that was supposed to happen? Clearly, the faceless guy and I had different interpretations of what the word soon meant.

All I knew for certain was that I could not go on living my life, the way I was doing now.

For crying out loud, I have no idea how my sister or my family even looked like. Did she have golden hair or brown hair? I do not know, I was too busy forgetting about my physical body to remember the appearance of the beings that kept me alive.

It did kind of ruin the whole keep-it-simple shenanigans that I did to rewire my brain over all this time. But, I need my brain in the “now” now.

Okay, let us focus on the important qualities that can affect my life going forward.

One-Hundred

I know about the people that are close to this body and can evaluate how they tick. They certainly can help me find out more about myself and this world. This could come in handy.

Ninety-Three

Dissociating and simple language do function as intended. Both prepare me for my goals and the upcoming introduction to this world.

Eighty-Six

Learning the language proved harder than thought possible. A game of association did not seem to mix well with my brain. It would be a hard endeavour to speak it, “Cartoush” did not seem very human tongue friendly.

The tonal shifts in the word resemble a death throe. It was much more throat than it was tongue or vocal cords.

Seventy-Nine

Time has slowed down, I feel and taste the air again. My thoughts indeed follow the old patterns again. It is regrettable, however, this discussion could and should not be avoided, it should be done with full focus and clarity of mind.

Seventy-Two

Finding out more about the characters involved in my life should be the best course of action. It does seem to have the most potential for the goals that I do chase and envision.

Especially, since the great plug was not pulled ‘this’ soon.

Sixty-Five

It was working, I was here. My brain was here, the moment was mine again. The thoughts did not race and everything returned to the logical views again. This kind of perspective made it easier to judge and see for myself what I should do next.

I should have done this much sooner.

Fifty-Eight

Sequential numbering, known from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, was really worth its weight in gold. It stopped the brain from horsing around, the gifted horse kept its trap shut and did not turn into a Trojan one. The Greeks to me have always been nice, they invaded my mind through the front door─like a trojan of the digital age.

Fifty-One

There are still so many things to consider, so many perspectives that need evaluation. Though at least the bed-bound guy is moving into the right direction. One that seems more helpful, than just sticking the head into the sand and calling it a day. Last time I checked, I was not sharing much of my DNA with an ostrich.

Yet my brain was braining again, fan-freaking-tastic, what more could I want from this lovely situation?

Well I could want a lot of things; content, I am with things turning out for the better. Even if I have to have another bout with my thoughts and still wrestle with the plan on how to proceed, an idea existing sufficed…

I know how I should or could proceed. Stillborn steps, but we’re making progress.

Forty-Four

The whole feelings front is still a bit weird. I can’t point my fingers, or lay on it, the body was still a bit weird.

It just seems to be something that would happen in time or has to happen.

Yeah, there’s not much I can do about it, keeping things simple or not has no impact on the state of my physical body. I would have just to see more and experience more. That seems to be the case…

Thirty-Seven

Am I missing something? Hmm, nothing really comes to mind. I seem to not miss a lot.

There are still some issues, minor ones at that, in regards to my sensations and the perception of the body.

The pain had lessened, I have no idea why it did so. Did I grow healthy? It seems unlikely, but I’m feeling less and less pain. That did not mean the pain was suddenly gone…the nerves still flare up from time to time.

Though it was also moving in the right direction, I guess.…

Thirty

So, what was I left with? I’m left with a nice perspective of what the future might hold. Before the great plug is plugged out.

I do think there’s a lot to look forward to, for once. What a new perspective to have, hmm; it was hard to get used to it.

Let’s see what the future holds. Let’s see what I can count on, right?

Twenty-Three

Those are the only things that I do have to account for.

However, for now…I shall enjoy the massage of green leaves again, the all too familiar footsteps announcing the good time to come.

Life was great, partially.

Sixteen, Nine and TWO

Before at minus five, it is cut from us with a knife.