Everyone goes through life thinking about Death at one point. Depending on your religion or your lack thereof you have some belief in what happens when you die. There's even people so far
into the study of Death and theories of what the afterlife is that they've somehow weighed the "Soul" in at 0.06 grams. Saying that when you die your consciousness goes somewhere. No one
really knows except those that have gone before us, maybe we're all wrong and have abso-fucking-lutely no idea where we go. Maybe we were all right and in reality just go where ever we
believe we go, but everyone thinks about themselves dying and hopes they go peacefully.
What about your mind? Sure, the soul leaves. Does that take your consciouness with you? If so is it really even you anymore? Are you any bit you five minutes from now that you were when
you read this sentance? I would say that I've died so many times I cannot begin to fathom it. Mentally I've undergone so many fucking changes and dark phases by which to pass through that
there can be without a shadow of a doubt that at least one part of me has died and been so long dead as to be forgotten. The death of innocense for example, something people joke about but
we all relatively agree is real. As life progresses we all start to realize Santa is fake, the tooth fairy never existed, and that your Mom and Dad tried to preserve your natural state of
innocense at that time. Do they really mean to? Or is that just some unconscious thought that they must try to save whatever is left inside your head because that's the you they know. That
something deep inside them is screaming don't let the same thing happen to them don't let them feel the pain that you felt by God do whatever you must to save them, sacrifice yourself.
Now let's take it back a notch, lets put this in perspective. Take a baby for example, they cry whenever any new pain hits them because in theory it could be the worse thing that has
literally ever happened to them. Make sense?
Now take someone whose older, a Combat Veteran with PTSD for example. They get home from whatever War they went to and their families notice a change immediately. It's not hard to recognize
the one you love. But something is... off, and you can sense it. Some are better at hiding it than others but mentally you can sense a disturbance. Fast forward a year or two and his/her
spouse walks in on them attempting suicide because they can't live with the voices screaming at them anymore. What causes that?
Let's interject a personal story of my own, to try to drive the point even further. For in order for me to get you to understand even a fraction of what I want you (The Reader) to feel I
have to hit you with something hard enough to break through the mental barrier that we all put in place to protect ourselves in order to mantain our own sanity. However to progress we must
sometimes allow change to our way of thinking.
I have a re-occuring nightmare. I've had it for about a decade now, and there's only one part in it that changes.
I wake up in an Insane Asylumn, I'm in a straight jacket and am being escorted to my cell by two guards. They throw me in there as I beg that I didn't mean what I had said to get thrown in
there. I get left in there and some time passes as you watch me through the security camera's between me trying to adjust to my surroundings. I move about the room and lay down on the bed
at random, but time starts to fast forward again. It abruptly stops with my screamining into the camera crying hysterically to the point the veins are popping out around my head and fast
forwards frantically around the room as I smash my head off a wall and wail in delusion. It stops with me standing in the corner facing away from the door in a Blair Witch Project type pose.
The guards finally come to talk to me and open the door, too little too late.
This is the part of the story that always changes, and that is simply how in whatever grotesque manner I kill them. Wether it be by beating them as they beg me for their very lives or
by whatever other means but it always ends in their deaths. This part is no longer through the security camera but through my own eyes I have to watch myself kill them. After that I
sprint down the hallway and poof into the darkness of the asylumn without saying another word.
Now what was the point of that dream? I think I finally understand it, after all these years. It's simply role reversal. On a day to day basis my body is in blissful ignorance of the
struggles my mind goes through. My own demons haunt me as much as they'd like but my body doesn't suffer much short term. In this my body becomes the demons of my mind, fighting to get out.
The guards represent the guidelines of society, trying to help keep people on track. The room is my barriers I've set up in my own head to shell off anything from coming in or out, but the
moment their is a lapse in the barrier the mind goes into a savage state. It gains control, it wins.
It is in this that you have those moments where people change, the mind dies, and a new victim is thrown into the "Room" to fill the void. It can't be the same person, that one is dead.
However they all know about the person who just was in there but not the other seven who came before, they can't be that person but that's what everyone thinks is in the room till they
realize. Then the walls get beaten on more and more and more.... It becomes easier to get out. The mind dies over and over again and the fresh "body" being thrown in only helps it reach
terminal velocity before an event happens so vast in proportion that is shakes the very basis of the asylum (The body). Hence suicide, hence any number of mental illness.
Everyone worries about dying..... I don't. I'm already Dead. I've died mentally so many times that I basically consider myself Undead. I'm not the same person who I was when I was younger,
I'm not the same person I am any bit now than I am five minutes from now. Every time the demons in my head fight to break out, I die a little bit more...
Eventually the body just follows suit.....