Death

Once I was sent crashing back to Earth; boiled down and ejected into the thick, black atmosphere of my past life, I couldn't see anything in front of me. I still watched the world with the eyes I stole from my dream like state, and everything that used to make sense was lost in the translation of a hopeless wasteland. Since I no longer had a heart, I lost the will to fight for things I could care for. There was something important I used to have to do, but all things meaningful were dust in light of what had happened to me, and so I started to wander aimlessly into the shadows of apathy and denial. I left the school I once held so close to my intentions, three days of torturous projections into places I couldn't believe I ever wanted to go. I was once again what I always had been. Nothing.

Purged of all fulfilment, I went in search of other things to make my life pleasant. It was futile, though, as I sat and watched the sun that seemed brighter than I remembered, blinding almost, creep across the sky. It mocked me with its vibrant energy, seemingly endless and warm. I floated inside myself. I do not remember much about those days, just that I cried more than I should have. Loss is always hard to deal with, be it a person, place or thing.

Eventually the dream that stole my heart away faded, and my old life grew back over the surface of my existence, like mold. It was infectious and deadly. A new type of desire burnt my tired soul. That of the physical sort, arguably the most dangerous. My prey was much closer than it should have been, much easier to latch onto than necessary. It became a game, and when I won, it was more than I'd ever experienced before. I fed on the flesh of an unsuspecting victim, yet the tables turned as they always do, and it was I once again who lost it all. It was wrenched right out from under me, in almost a literal sense. My chest was emptied of my heart long ago, and now my bed was empty of my addiction.

What was this... I never knew. Pain is just the same whether you know what causes it or not. Either way all I knew between my awakening and my attachment was this: I was a dead person. A shell of what I'd used to be. My blood was cold and I'd submitted to being second best, using and letting myself get used, under a secrecy that was as transparent as my soul.