no one.

Instructions

i used to be someone. who am i now? no one. -- why am i here? i serve little purpose. none at all. none but to rot for all of eternity. watching. watching. watching. as it all fades away. no one was ever here. I am not me. I am not who i was. i am no one. my name used to instill fear. now there is only indifference. it stings, it really does. more than the blow that felled me. being forgotten. it hurts like claws gripping my heart. -- it has not been long. not long at all. why are they here? they were supposed to stay there. down there. where they do not have to rot. i have left them. they have left me. they are all gone, out of my reach. why does the light torment me so? why can't i see them? one last time. -- he is all alone. alone, by himself, with no one to tell him. that they love him. that i love him. it is not the same. the dreamshares, they only tease me. with what could have been. what should have been. if i had let my brain guide me instead of my claws. i see him now. in the distance. but he is not real, his smile, his eyes, his scent are not real. he is not with me. he is but a mirage, a flickering shape i cannot reach built only to play with my mind. he slips through my grasp every time. he is a good cat. i am a bad cat. there is a distinction. a line drawn between us. that sets us apart. will i see him? ever? do i deserve to? -- as i wander through this place of eternal rot i start to wonder if i am real. if i am in control. the darkness is toying with my mind. i can see its cruel smile if i squint hard enough. i am in charge. of no one. there is no one here. they are all hallucinations fever dreams i have no power. for i am no one. i intend to toy with the living. but i cannot for they toy with me in a way which slowly slowly slowly chips at my sanity like a woodpecker does to a tree until it is but a stump a memory of what it once was a fearful, majestic creature lush with life and wisdom now rendered useless, uninteresting by a mere bird. who am i now? no one. -- it is not worth it any longer. his words seem to crawl under my skin. fill my head. no one cares. is it true? did a single soul shed a tear when i left the world? or were they stoic uncaring indifferent to my stony, lifeless corpse tainted with anger vengeance desire violence grief insanity all that one should not be tainted with. it is a disease, i spread it to those around me. they have fallen of it too. -- i am sorry that i am no one.