An Unawareness

Ive drifted off and I lost track of time and space of where I am. I dont remember closing my eyes or even laying down to sleep. I dont even remember feeling tired enough to think about laying down.

Yet here I am, lost again. I feel like Ive been here before but I cant put my finger on it.

I call out for someone if they can hear me but when as anyone heard me when I called out? Why would it start now. I guess if someone answered back, I would know I was for sure dreaming!

I listen to the echo as it bounces off the nothingness surrounding me. It comes back into my ears and reminds me that I am the only one who can hear my voice.

I look down and I see a gun in my hand. I feel its cold plastic handle as my fingers grip in it. The indented slots for the fingers fit mine perfectly. No overlap or excess. It fits like it was designed just for my hands.

I reach over with my other hand and feel the magazine in the bottom. I pop it out and look inside. The glinting gold of the brass shining into my eyes as I blink from just how bright it is. Ive never seen a set of cartridges shimmer like this. The silver round in the brass are smooth. Perfectly edged to have no defects or abnormalities in them. Perfect rounds.

I place it back into the magzine slot and push against it to make sure its seated properly. My hand goes up to the slide and I grip it. The girth is small compared to my hands but I can feel the thickness of it as it slides back and I release it. The sound of a round being extracted from the magazine and pushed into the chamber as the slide sits into its forward position makes the slightest weight change in the gun. Nothing youd notice typically. Nothing that would make you hold it differently. Normally.

But this time...I cant help but readjust my grip as I place it back and hold tighter. I see the whites of my nails as I squeeze, I release just to let them turn a nice shade of pink. Back to normal.

I look around and I call out one more time. I hear the same familiar echo. Somehow it doesnt sound like me anymore. Did it ever really sound like me? Was I ever truly talking out loud? I mean, I would have had to be right? Otherwise, whos voice was/ is it that i have and am hearing.

It must be mine of course.

I am in a room that looks familiar but I cant place my finger on where I have seen it before. Somehow, it reminds me of a calming place. A peaceful place. Somewhere I have been and found an escape from whatever I needed to run from. Why was I running? Was I escaping for a reason? Was it self induced fear or was it actual fear? Is there even a difference? Whats real to me in my head is real to me in life. That makes sense correct? I mean, If I think it to be real then my body will react as if it were such.

Why am I talking to you again? You havent given me any answers this far so why would I ask you now for reassurance? Im not asking you that im asking myself that... I think.

I cant rememebr anymore.

WHY CANT I REMEMBER?!

Why cant I remember where this is? Why cant I remember who I am? Why cant I remember how to feel free and at peace? Wasnt there a time in my life where I was in control of myself and I didnt worry about anything? Was that just me sleeping and that was why I felt so in control? Being awake though, do we ever have control? We must have some sort of control. Right?

AH Im doing it again, im asking stupid fucking questions to someone that isnt there and I get no fucking answers back. I dont expect you to answer. I dont expect you to do anything. Just understand that I cant stop thinking which means Im talking to myself and sometimes it comes out in a question form but I dont think you have the answer. Whoever you are. Wherever you are. Its funny though that you think that I know whats wrong with me or that I know who im talking to when I cant even remember where I am or why im here with this gun in my hand or who the fuck Im even talking to....Doesnt that make you crazy....or me...am I you or are you me?

Stop it!

STOP IT!!

I am not a toy! Im not a puppet. Stop! I am not a broken mental case! I am fine! I am in control!

I dont need you to answer me!

I dont need your acceptance!

I am fine!

I dont need help! Especially not from you! or me....fuck!

I place the gun in my mouth and I taste the metal against my tongue. I look down and I see the matte black slide, I feel the trigger against the pad of my finger and I press slightly. Just enough to send the firing pin into the brass casing and ignite the powder inside of it as it sends the perfect silver round through the chamber spinning around as the gases, flame and round escape the enlcosed chamber and for what seems like a full minute I can feel the flames and taste the gas in my mouth. The round once polished to perfection rips through my brain and then my skull and right out the layer of skin and hair that once laid flat on my scalp. The blast follows and with it, blood and bone and brain matter scatter across the openness of the room and paint a picture Ill never be able to witness. I wont be able to title it and see my hardwork hanging in some rich mans house as he marvels his collection to his friends he has over for dinner and as they smile and laugh and enjoy eachothers company, They will occasionally look up at the painting and wonder what the painter was thinking while making this piece. Was he hurting? Was he happy? Was he able to mix the colors to perfection off the bat or did it take time to find the right combination? They will carry on with their conversations and fun or maybe even a dinner party and as they carry on into the night, there the painting will be. Hanging up without a single stamp or intials to say who it belongs to.

I will hope that who ever finds the painting will never have known me. They will never have to wonder things about me or care for that matter.

Just another hopeless wanderer who couldnt find his way and found a way to escape the cycle of life.

I hope whoever finds the painting will not have ever known me because if they did, I really wish they would have let me meet him.

-End-