"I thoroughly do not want to live."

That was the thought that entered my mind on my 18th birthday. And each year since, that phrase has rang louder and louder in my aching head. Now, with 22 wasted years of life, that thought is the only company I have.

My name is XXXXXXX. Now, you can read that in a variety of ways. You could pronounce it as "X", "X's", or even "Ex ex ex ex ex ex ex", if you want to be obtuse about things. You could even insert your own name if you find yourself of my ilk. Or you could simply read it as "Blank".

I prefer "Blank". It's fitting. I feel "Blank". My mind is "Blank". My past, present and future are "Blank".

I am "Blank".

I have been violently ill for the past 8 months.

And as I lay in bed, too pained to change from my work clothes. I ponder what I'd eaten that could have triggered such a violent reaction within my internals today. Was it the rice? I'd remembered to keep it unseasoned, though I suppose the batch was a few days old now... The chicken? I'd remembered to buy the skinless kind. So maybe I cooked it too long? The gluten free bread was kept untoasted to avoid having anything sharp or granulated passing through my intestines. And the peanut butter I'd dabbed on one side was minimal to reduce the fats and oils that nuts bring...

It must have been the sugar-free blackberry jam. Yes! That's right, sugar free jam is sweetened with aspartame. I suppose artificial sweeteners are just as deadly as natural sugars when it comes to my internal tolerance. Damn it! I want to scream, but the stress of it all is enough to cramp my stomach as is. Am I not allowed to enjoy anything!? My own food is acting as poison to me. The irony of trying to replenish my body's nutrients, only to have it violently expelled within a few minutes to hours! Eating is poison.

The most beneficial option unequivocally is to starve. Without food entering my body, my immune system can stop its paranoid malfunctions and give up on attacking my insides. But the damage has already been done. Constricting my diet hasn't worked, eating alternative foods hasn't worked, even the medicine which I'd waited months for, the same medicine which I'd jumped through hoops for just so my insurance company could deny me of it again and again, until my condition had worsened to such a degree that denying me further would no doubt count as cruel and unusual punishment, has not worked. I lie thirsty, with a bottle of water on my nightstand. This bottle is no more than one and a half feet away from my left hand. Yet I cannot muster the strength to even turn my head to face said bottle. My current weight must now graze the double-digit threshold, yet my entire body is covered in marble. I am a statue of a failed human being.

The tie around my neck has been choking me for years. The buttons on my shirt are the nails in my coffin. The friends I'd made have come and gone. I cannot remember their names or faces. My family never sees or hears from me, and they haven't for nearly half a decade now. The phone is too heavy to hold.

A mess of excuses, I'm aware. In fact, every criticism that you can think of, that you had already thought of or that you will think of later, I have already thought of first and am well aware of. You see, I have already thoroughly examined and dissected my character better than you or your most experienced psychologist ever could. I'm not claiming to be a professional. I simply know myself well, because I do not know anyone else. I know everything that my body can and cannot handle, everything that can be said to make me smile and frown. I know exactly what I look like at any given time, and I know how long any happiness or pain will last.

It is an unending torture to be permanently aware of oneself.

I can feel the oil and dirt in my hair, the plaque on my teeth, and of course the war being waged between my immune and digestive system. I feel the misery these senses bring me. I feel my selfish thoughts acting up as well...For instance, why of all things did I have to get an autoimmune disease targeting my digestive system!? I'm a gourmand, I adore a menagerie of different goods, baked, blended or cooked! Foreign, exotic, traditional, I won't complain where it comes from, if you call it food I'll try it at least once. That was my mentality for 21 years before my own body turned traitor and organized a mutiny.

Second of all, if I was going to have an autoimmune disease, why of all things did it have to target my bowels!? Girls aren't going to pine to nurse and care for a man who shits too often! You want something they could glamorize, like a lung disease giving one a sexy, raspy voice. Or a heart condition in which one couldn't exert themselves too often. With those kinds of internal problems it's much easier for the maternal type to whisk you into her arms and promise never to leave your poor soul.

In my case such a girl just got too disgusted with my defective body and left. It makes sense though, I'm disgusted by myself, and unlike me she actually had dreams and aspirations. She had something to work towards, and plenty on her plate already. A boyfriend who could be patient for her was tolerable in her eyes. But one who became needy and ill was a burden I wouldn't wish upon any couple. So I understand her decision. It was a logically sound choice on her part. The least painful and most beneficial way to handle the situation, in her case. I wouldn't expect anything different of her.

One by one the threads that bind me to this world are being snipped apart. I've lost family, friends, a job, my girlfriend, and about 60 pounds of my former self. At this point I truly am just a statue laid atop the blankets. And at this point I wish desperately to crumble into rubble. I feel the cracks forming along my cheeks, down to my collarbones. I feel the fractures painting lines across my ribs and sunken-in belly. I feel the splitting separating each and every one of my joints, down to the ends of my fingers and the tips of my toes. I close my eyes and crumble into dust. But despite my greatest wishes and deepest desires, I awaken yet again after only a few seconds. Except it hasn't been seconds. It's been roughly fifteen hours, and I am once again several hours late for work.

I've already been fired, such an occasion was a long time coming. It's not an issue though. I honestly thank my company for being so patient with me despite my poor performance with attendance and productivity. It was their offices that I stumbled into when I desperately needed health insurance. Yes, it was my company who extended their saintly hand down unto me when I was at my very lowest. Gifting me a livable income, my desperately-needed health benefits, and a purpose of being. All for the low price of a few hours of my time per week. Yet I repay them how? Why of course it's by taking nearly twice my allotted sick days for the year, missing my deadlines, and smelling like a homeless! I've not simply bitten the hand that feeds me, I've torn chunks of its flesh asunder with the ravenous maw that is my uncouth behavior. It was imperative that I be laid off as soon as possible. Thankfully that day came yesterday. Today I shall clean out my desk and leave for good. It is my repentance for showing such disrespect to my savior. Though I am no longer serving my company I am forever in their debt for the opportunity I was given, despite my squandering of such a gift.

With the strength of gods, I rise from bed and stumble towards the door. Both hands clasp the handle in prayer that I may have the strength to twist it open. The Lord in Heaven has mercy on me and the door swings open. I hesitate for a moment and step outside for the first time in centuries.

Immediately, I am set alight.

Flames lick at my hands and face, my blood boils beneath the skin. Five steps outside and my breathing is labored, sweat glistening off of my forehead. The dirt and oils coating my hair and body only serve to fan the flames, scorching me completely. Within microseconds, my pale complexion is scarred a deep crimson. Shoes flooded with my own perspiration, my formal attire set ablaze, clothing my body in ash.

I am unbothered. I pay no mind to how sweltering the sun wishes to be, nor do I care to glance at how passers-by are reacting to such an apocalyptic heat wave. I cannot hear or see anything. I am simply focused on putting one foot ahead of the other and making it to work. After all, I already know how all varieties of people view me. I know what every face of sympathy and disgust looks like on every age, race, gender and class. My eyes have no need to meet theirs, I am already aware of how I am perceived.

I proceed as normal, walking the same twenty mile stretch I'd become so painfully familiar with for the past eight months. In the same way with which I move throughout all of life. My hands clasped tightly behind my back, resting upon my child-sized belt serving as the border between my dusty black slacks and white wrinkled dress shirt. Nose to the ground, leaning as far forward as my spinal column will allow me. My walnut-colored locks grazing the pavement with each step of my scuffed loafers as my cracked and smudgy glasses continue to threaten me with the idea of slipping off of my face.

Yes, I proceeded down the roads, across bustling cityscapes, through traffic and over the bridges. Until I found myself trespassing into a nearby construction zone and treading upon a girder suspended several stories in the air. It seems my feet had different plans than I for today.

It could have been the heat, or a sense of shame, or perhaps subtle defiance, but my brain and vision were clouded over today. And I entertained the thought of letting my feet continue forward, even allowing my hunched body to sway to and fro along the way. I stare deeply into the beam, only really seeing a red haze continuously interrupted by the rhythm of my footsteps. Only reminded that it's a beam through the clunk, clunk, clunk of my footsteps. Only reminded they're my footsteps because they move in front of me in a way only I can walk.

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Suddenly, I am no longer walking.

The wind has been generous enough to cool me on such a summery morning. Cradling me as I feel the breeze slipping between my fingers. I am given a gift. For the first time in decades, centuries, possibly millennia, my eyes meet the vast blue expanse.

Dazzling, boundless azure coats my view. A sea of puffy, white clouds are painted across the horizon. Forming a kingdom of abstract shapes and figures. I am gazing into the ether, the upper reaches of an astral ocean. A sapphire sky that has sheltered me since birth, an ever present guardian angel. My second mother.

I am witnessing heaven.

My vision blurs for but a moment as a few new raindrops are added to the sky. It is a view that can be defined with every word in every language, yet cannot be defined at all. It cannot be fully conceptualized or envisioned. It simply is. And as the crests of the dull, grey skyscrapers begin to pollute the scene. I have but one single wish:

"I want to see the sky again".

And within an instant, I see nothing at all.

* * *

Ohhh...Ohhhh! Now that! Yes, that is an interesting sight! One I've never seen before, and one I really didn't ever expect to see. This young man right here, hanging a few feet in front of me within this pitch-dark void is suspended upon a cross! He is crucified! Each arm tied with scarlet rope to either side of the black post! Does he think himself a Messiah!?

Now that's all fine and dandy, believe me I'm sure he's enjoying himself up there. Can't quite see his face but I'm sure he's got plenty to smile about with that ego of his. But! But!! But!!! Here's the punchline, the idiot's got the nail in the wrong place! He's got a hole punched in his gut, straight in the middle of himself. Just pinned up there like a note on a cork board! I came here to talk to him a bit but I honestly have to bite my tongue to keep from bursting into a laughing fit.

Ah, ow ow ow...Keeping my laughs stifled is such a pain. These teeth are like razors! And this suit is so stuffy too...I feel like such a tool wearing this. But! It's good for making negotiations. Now then, let's see if I can make this poor boy's day...

It seems the little snickering I had to myself awakened him, his head lifted slowly, until our eyes met. One would think waking up in such a scenario would be terrifying, a major adrenaline boost, asking the obvious "where am I?", "who are you?", kinds of questions. Until the pain started setting in of course. But he was silent, expressionless, despite awakening in limbo crucified and covered in his own blood. It's like the guy was doing his best to imitate a savior, or maybe he truly was hollow to the core.

With those possibilities, there's only about a fifty percent chance that what I'm doing here will bear any fruit at all. In fact it could prove disastrous. Though despite the innumerable risks that could come with offering this young man such an extraordinary opportunity, in this brief moment I couldn't help but be mystified by his reaction to the scene he's being presented with. Has he even noticed the scene he's being presented with? His eyes linger on my own, unblinking. His expression is solemn. He asks no questions and speaks no words. Is he judging me? Let’s try breaking the silence.

"Are you aware that you have died?"

"Yes. I know."

His hoarse voice can barely vocalize a response, it's more than likely that his lungs are crushed. His expression is unchanging. Let's try again.

"Are you aware this is not heaven?"

"I'm not expecting heaven."

His eyes are light bulbs that have dimmed and burned out. It seems as if the vigor has been whittled away from him years before he found himself here, or perhaps it was drained in an instant. Again, I'll ask him.

"Are you aware of how you died?"

"I fell."

He felt no pain. Again.

"Are you aware of where you are?"

"Not at all."

No, he does feel pain, Entirely conscious, entirely aware of his situation. Why I'd venture to say he's well aware of his surroundings, despite his stoic response! His face hasn't changed though. And his body is entirely limp, the dried stains seem to indicate he's lost about all he can. Again.

"Are you aware that, in a moment, your existence will be erased?"

"I wasn't aware, and I don't entirely care."

He is papier-mâché. A hollow statue. Every alarm bell is going off, and I am totally deaf. Every red flag is being waved, and I am totally blind. Everything I've worked towards, everything I've gambled upon could be rubbed out in an instant. Yet what lies before me is a gallery piece. The essence of despair. Would it be so cruel to deprive him of his fade to nothing? To alter his fate, against his will? This is someone who has absolutely, positively accepted what is to come naturally. I would be nothing short of a villain if I were to disrupt the natural cycle of life and death with my offering. As puzzling as the sight laid before me may be, I must resist. As curious as I am about his past and personality, I must resist. As much as I wish to view his full potential...I must...resist...

...Hey was that an "entirely" I heard in his response? He doesn't "entirely" care? As in, he does care a little, right? If he truly didn't care. He would have phrased it "I don't care, entirely." or "I entirely do not care." But he phrased it "I don't entirely care." What an odd phrasing. How would one dissect that? He doesn't care about it, entirely? With the implication that he entirely lacks regard for what is to come? Or he does not care entirely, meaning that his caring about the scenario is incomplete. That his lack of caring makes up only a fraction of his true feelings! Now I'm left with even more questions...fine! Lets jump straight to the controversial questions. Best to get a definite "No." So I can stop wasting my time with these head spinning musings!

"Would you like to live agai—"

"YES."

His voice was clear, echoing through the vast emptiness. Shaken, I took a step backwards. Had I heard that right? Did this lifeless husk that had already resigned himself to fate just call out in such a booming tone? Clinging to life now of all times? I looked around for a moment, regaining some composure and putting my restless mind at ease. Upon meeting his gaze once more, his eyes were gleaming, reinvigorated in an instant! Forest green, just like my own. They were fixed upon me, twinkling, near pleading! Like a puppy dog, begging for dinner scraps.. Closer too, much closer...he was leaning towards me! Suspended on the cross, he strained against the nail in his belly and the ropes on his wrists! What unimaginable torture he must feel! Yet his eyes, they shimmered with wonder! It was as if I were telling a young child the story of Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. Like a baby tasting candy for the first time.

My lips curled, no more playing coy. A sinful, no, downright profane grin shot across my face, one I had not felt in years. He was the marble I was looking for. A masterpiece to be chiseled, with guidelines written all over him. Now for the punchline!

"Would you still choose to be reborn, even if your second life were assuredly worse than your previous?"

Bam! There we have it! Now then, show me! I may be patient, but when the ball gets rolling I'm not the type of girl to just sit around! Go on, pained soldier! Show me what kind of man you are!!

Silence.

There was nothing around us, nothing in our minds. Pure silence stretching on for an infinite number of miles, pure silence for an eternity. Yet his expression was unchanging. Silence, until-

The wicked grin that spread across my face was mirrored in his own.

"Amen."

I could feel every milliliter of blood soar through my body. I could feel my fists clench so hard that my palms were nearly sliced open by my own nails. My teeth gnashed together, and my lips stretched further than I previously thought possible. I found it at last, a new Angel. At last, I was finally able to speak those hallowed words once more! All at once, in an eruption of our combined passions, instinctively, I felt it! My back arched, hands spread out to my sides, head tilting back in abject bliss!

"IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR SOUL! I SENTENCE YOU TO DEVILAND!! A DARK WORLD OF THE EVIL AND THE MACABRE!!"

Bursting from the endless nothing, a wooden door looking indistinguishable one which you'd find in any average office building stared down the young man on the cross, roughly three hundred feet directly ahead. It challenged him. The man’s response was nothing short of a miracle. His arms strained against the red ropes, blood bursting forth, the wood of the cross splintering under the heaving might that was this man’s will to live once more! Hauling himself forward, centimeters at a time along the great nail that so desperately wishes to keep him pinned. Against all odds, he smiles! Eyes sparkling, even with blood and tears welling up in them. But he is in abject bliss, the prospect of life anew fuels him, it is a face of pure gratitude. I see him mouth but two words when at last-

He bursts from the cross, leaving a shower of timber to fall around us as the man breaks into a full sprint. I barely have time to collect my thoughts, to process the situation as with each step this man takes, his wounds seem to close, his complexion grows clearer, his beaming face ever more radiant as a laugh bellows from deep within his soul. Surely, you would think him psychotic, or at the very least experiencing a bout of mania. But when one glimpses their nirvana, even for just a moment, it could very well be enough to shake the earth. This was his one-hundred-meter dash to rebirth. A marathon of life leading to a race from death. His arms flailed wildly, his legs tripping over themselves as he made a mad dash towards his new beginning. It was pure awe that I felt, an inspiring scene, as if a falsely-convicted prisoner had broken free of his cell… As if a rabid animal had escaped euthanasia... As if Lucifer himself were ascending from the depths of the nine circles...

His hand finally clasped the handle, and he howled out for all the endless nothing to hear:

“AND WHO IS MY SAVIOR? AND WHO DO I OWE MY VERY SOUL?”

“Carnivale…Rhythm.”

I could barely speak my own name before he rushed through the door to Deviland, entirely disregarding my warning of the immeasurable dangers that were to come from accepting the offer. Though, between myself and my own thoughts…

I feel like I may have unleashed something equally dangerous upon my own world.