It is dark. I tried opening my eyes, I only saw darkness. I can’t move. I can’t breath. But I am not dead.

I dwell my thoughts on what may be happening to me. And I remembered. I was falling. Eternally falling towards an infinite depth you cannot measure through the units of length and height. It is as if, I were not falling at all. It can be more described of as, floating, Floating into an eternal plane whose bounds are unlimited. Whose reaches end in nothingness.

Feeling pain nor pleasure, I cannot enjoy or suffer in this situation. Loneliness? I do not know of such a thing. I always have been a singularity. My existence has always been in solitude.

But why am I in this state? This must be a dream. A nonsensical dream. But I do not dream. Dreams are the manifestation of desires. I have always been satisfied with myself. Contented, I live traceless in a world that belonged to no one, but my consciousness. A world populated with petty things such as the self-existing humans and their creations. But I cannot exist in them. So this isn’t a dream. Or, I force myself into believing so.

If that is the case, then I should admit that I am desiring something. But what may that be? This is an empty world in which I continuously fall into a void of stark blackness. There is nothing desirable or anything to desire here. There is even nothing, but myself here.

Then, do I desire myself? But I am satisfied. Or, again, I force myself into believing so.

Incompleteness. I might still be imperfect. I should not have this kind of thoughts. My existence alone in my world is enough. I do not need such dreams. After all, they are only but delusions. They remain as dreams because they are the essence of the inanimate. They simply do not exist.

Falling. I am still falling. Into the eternal well of nothingness. I close my eyes with the hopes of waking up in my imprudence.



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