Myself
by M.R. Meredith

"If life is meant to be unfair then maybe it should not be left alone for it to wander off and do its own thing." This thought flooded my mind as it did so often, as of yet I had not deciphered its meaning and cared not to do so. My mind flittered with thoughts so often, new ideas and old, brave and bold answers to age old questions. Nobody cared people left me long ago, not wanting my thoughts, my answers. I 'live' alone now but I don't truly believe I live. Numb my limbs lifeless only moving to brush the fly away from my eye. Things in the darkness speak, call to me, and beckon. I do them just and ignore the pleas. The dark is no place for me, my mind is our own and no one can destroy this.

"We are too much for them", the dark says has it calls to me in a silent whisper. I resist, my mind is my own, and the shadows move form shapes in the darkness. Sounds brush past not disturbing my mind, my being. Echoing whispers, silent whispers. They want us, not me us there are more of us now. My mind is home to many things.

They have exiled me our mind is not mine. I exist now only in this small corner leaving only ideas of complex thought in the mind. The darkness no longer calls but taunts it knows I can not win. Shadows form shapes. Shapes form shadows. An endless cycle. So corrupt are the thoughts of ours, theirs the darkness need only to swoop in and clutch my mind for themselves.

The blade is sharp to the touch. Blood is drawn. My final moments on this plane, humbling. No need to fear the darkness. Releasing my mind into the endless deserts, the vast and empty fields. My thoughts are now everything and nothing I exist only within myself and nothing. I am me.