~The bed beckons a sleep starved soul, afraid to dream lest nightmares take their toll from the living. And so, in stead of drowning in hateful light, smother thyself in the warm darkness of a clear, cold night.~
'Life is a thing to survive. Whether or not you live, is up to you.' The disembodied voice echoes in the darkness surrounding me. I feel nothing. See nothing. Smell nothing. Taste nothing. But... I can hear the strange voice. It sounds much like my own, only....
Hn, is life really worth living? So much has happened in such a short time. Some good things, but mostly bad. It just seems *wrong* somehow, the hand I've been dealt for play. I don't know what's worse. What happens... or not being able to remember. To... control.
'You can be satisfied in survival, or survive on satisfaction....' These words, they seem so true. So... right to my mind. Which is the road to take? Survival is imperative to life, is it not? Satisfaction... is extraneous. Unnecessary to true survival.
'Just survive in passiveness, day by day.' That's easy enough, isn't it? Just cruise through life, letting only outside causes bring reaction, if reaction is indeed required.... No matter how I look at it, life is a thing to survive. But... do I really care to?
Another voice floated into my mind...
"It gave me hope."
Pfah! There is no such thing as hope.... I can survive in misery just as well as in hope. I can survive in happiness just as well as in sorrow. Do I live to survive life, or shall I shut everything out from my mind and survive in my own, small world?
There was more speech from the outside voice, though I couldn't quite make it out - as though it ended lost in the darkness... then the words became clear once more. "I owe you more than I ever gave you. I know you won't forgive me... but I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever met you, truth be told. You deserve better. I'm sorry."
I deserve nothing, least of all this man's comradeship.
I can only remind myself of my pitiful existance, my own inadequacy. My... wrongness.
I used to know who I was. I used to look in a mirror and see myself, but now a stranger is looking back. Dare I try to find myself? Is my self even worth finding? 'The seed of your destruction has already been planted.' What does that mean? What did that bug mean by telling me that only by trusting in others will I survive? I do trust in others... mostly. But dare I allow them to trust me? Myself, with a memory filled with holes, and a mind filled with nightmares which herald doom?
I don't belong here. It is a painful realisation, but holds truth nonetheless. I don't belong *anywhere*.
The voice is gone now, and only my voices remain. Turn everything off. Shut everything down. Simply... survive.
Then I was back... tied so I couldn't move, the purists beating my twin and me to death once more....
And... darkness enveloped me.
~The bed beckons a sleep starved soul, afraid to dream lest nightmares take their toll from the living. And so, in stead of drowning in hateful light, smother thyself in the warm darkness of a clear, cold night.~