Welcome To My World

Welcome to my world. Welcome to an entire universe of perfection. There are no hateful parents, no sick elders, no lousy children. Here, the four horsemen of the apocalypse have yet to reach. And, of course, that means there is no lying, either, so when I say "Welcome to my world,” I mean it. Welcome to a world of my own, a world that is so perfect because there is no one else. There aren't any people to disappoint you because there are no people.

It wasn't always like this, though. No, I used to live in the "Real World". Yes, I remember it bitterly. The cold feel of it, as though everything had been tinted with an ice-blue. The radiation of hate and mistrust from every living thing. Even the rats stare at one another with loathsome glares. The acrid tang of blood and burning diesel fuel in the air, just strong enough that you could taste it. I remember the cold, dark alleyways, and the brisk, chilling brush of the frigid concrete against the bare soles of my feet. But, most of all, the feeling of loneliness. Loneliness, imagine. The complete and utter isolation from everyone else, even though the human population is so high that you’re being shoved into others constantly whilst trying to walk. Loneliness! How can one feel so alone when there are millions of other human souls crowding around them? But, no matter how many people I bumped into, it was as if there were a barrier separating me from them so that we were never actually touching. Maybe it was just an illusion of mine, no one else seemed to notice. No one. It seemed that no other soul could see that we were all just strangers wandering around the same dark alleyway. The loneliness haunted me, it felt as though my soul was being carved straight from me. As if I had not noticed it until everything had been carved away from inside my chest and it had begun carving out my throat from the inside. Right where the bile rises.

I remember school, too. I spent most of my time there. Many children skipped days and classes, what did they care for their grades? Their parents didn’t care for their future, so why should they? But no, not me. I never skipped school, I always sat out the whole day. Even when I was the only child in the class, and on a few occasions, the only child in the entire school. Of course, I didn’t care for my grades, either, I wasn’t that far removed from society, but where had I to go? I had no family, no home, no friends. I did not want to leave school, I loved school, at school, I could forget that the world was dying and I could write notes instead. That is why it came as such a shock to me that I had to leave, one day. I remember it well, it is the clearest of all of my memories. I was fairly old, about the age of an adult, I would say. I remember leaving the dark, freezing alley and walking barefoot to the school. I remember the familiar scent of mildew when I entered the door. I blinked at the familiar pale green walls, the ones that seemed to hemm in on you when you didn’t watch them carefully enough. I walked up to a classroom but was stopped short of the door. The one who had stopped me told me I could not come in. When I asked “Why?”, they responded, “You have graduated, school is done, go, be happy! Rejoice and die young with your friends before you get trapped in the misery that is called work!”. Of course, I left, what else could I do? School had been my only home and my only friend and now, it had sent me away, too.

Life went on and on. I lived on my own, scrounging for my next meal and drinking bitter mud from puddles of acid rain. Eventually, I saw it, my chance to escape. It was in the form of a billboard, huh. How strange. A billboard, something I had never cared to look at once in my life. Have you ever noticed billboards? Have you ever thought that they would be the ones to show you how to escape the world? It’s funny because they are supposed to be noticed, that’s why they’re so large, but until that day, I had never given a thought to one in my whole life. It read, “Dream your life away.” After school sent me away, I realized that dreams were the next best thing. In fact, they may have been better. I could be a whole new me, live my life differently than I had been. I could forget about the shrill screams from the dour alleyways that no one knew the cause of, that is until three days later when someone asked you if you had heard what happened. And, when you said no they told you a story about how someone you had met a few weeks ago who had a knife dragged across their throat to create a huge, wide smile. A scarlet smile that spread from one side of their neck to the other, grinning like a homicidal sociopath right after a slaughter. That is why I fell into the world of dreams. The only thing about dreams? As much as I prayed and hoped and pleaded, they were never real. As much as I wished I could be in a place where people around me knew who had bumped into them and instead of continuing without a glance, they looked back, just to see who had bumped into them. So, when I saw that billboard, I took my chance to get rid of my life and live in a dream. 

I arrived at the address written on the billboard the next morning, eager and ready for whatever awaited me. The walls were a bright white as if the lights in there had been just a little too harsh and the walls reflected it right into my eyes. It smelled of mildew and perhaps there had been something rotting, but a spray-scent covered up the majority of it, leaving the room stuffy and too-bright. The mold-covered ceiling tiles counted 107, 9 lengthwise and 12 breadthwise and one missing, leaving a gaping black hole in the ceiling. The clerk asked me what I was there for and I described the billboard for him in a simple manner. I felt proud of myself, finally giving in to the longing. It had pulled me down like weights tied to my arms while I tried to swim in a lake, it had begun to drown me. So, I had decided to free myself of the burden of life and responsibility. After I explained what I wanted, he raised an eyebrow, shook his head and made a gesture to a doctor who had just walked into the bright white waiting room. The doctor beckoned me over and explained to me what would happen. A nurse gave me a few papers to sign while he rambled.

“You will be in and out of sleep every so often, but it will mainly just be one long dream. And, if you ever want to resume your normal life, once every five years you will be woken up and given the chance to.” He went on explaining how this procedure had helped population control, and what and whatnot. He seemingly spoke forever, if I would’ve had any will to stay in the “Real World”, his talking rendered it long gone. When I eventually laid down, I was tired just from listening to him speak. I closed my eyes and allowed my thoughts to drift. I’m not sure exactly when I went into my dream, but it was around that time. I don’t remember much from my past other than that. I’ve woken up and been offered the chance to be out in the world more times than I can count. I’ll do it someday, I’m sure, but not today. No, not today… 

My name? I’m sure it’s here somewhere, buried underneath the memories I just pulled up, I’m certain it is. I just care not to find it. Does it really matter what humanity calls me either way? At first, I was just living in my dreams, as I had wanted to. It was amazing, to be as creative as I wanted, believing that it was real life. The beauty was indescribable. I felt it bubbling up in me, welling up in my throat like bile, right where my soul had been carved away once before. Then, eventually, I realized I was dreaming. And then I sort of… missed the world, I suppose. I missed the loneliness, somehow. I had lived so long in the loneliness, that having friends didn’t feel as it should’ve. It felt… wrong, somehow. As if the beauty and interactions had filled me up so much that having just a little bit and treasuring it made it not special any longer. Almost like how you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, but the opposite, you don’t know what you really want until you have too much of it. Also, every time I was filled up, the people stole some of that with their interactions, it was like they were taking my lifeblood and using it to sustain themselves which, in effect, is what I was doing to them. I came to realize that people were parasites, feeding off of one another in a vicious cycle. In the end, I decided to create my perfect world. A world without people. A world in which I didn’t have to deal with others because there were none and a world where I could feel as I had when I was young and new in the world.

And now, here I am, thinking back on all the choices that have brought me here. Reveling in the solitude and darkness and lack of humanity. But now, I realize I can never really escape humans. I am, of course, laying on a bed in a hospital somewhere breathing deeply with my eyes closed. I can never get away from those who take care of my body while I dream my life away. And, I can never escape myself. I am trapped in a human body, I can never get away from all of the human souls because mine follows me like bloody footprints. I said I wanted to go back to the “Real World” someday. But for now, the world is still there, the memory too raw for me to try again.

I’m dying, I can feel it. I’ve grown old and have ignored the world and myself, too. The weakness when I wake up once every five years growing exponentially. Soon my life will be over and all I will have done with it is dream of the acrid scent of blood and burning diesel, so strong you could taste it. And dream of the school where I felt at home more than anywhere that sent me away. And I dreamed about being alone even though others were always around because all I have ever felt is loneliness and I cannot feel anything else, as much as I have tried. When all I have ever done for as long as I can recall is sit in a small, dark room and wistfully pretend that real life was all a dream and all my dreams were real.

I’m sure it will all be over soon.