One day

x65943

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I was walking away from my house. I was suddenly done with it. I had no plans of where to go - or where I would sleep that night. Immediately I began to feel cold, but I pushed that out of my mind.

I was tired of going to work every day. I was tired of making just enough money to pay my rent and buy shitty food. I was done with the days of poor sleep. I lived surrounded by thousands of people in a busy city, but I felt so alone. I hadn't had a real conversation in months - just meaningless exchanges with customers.

I tried to escape into games and web forums. But nothing was fulfilling. I became more tired. Nothing I used to like made me happy anymore. Food became a chore. I quit going to work. I didn't eat for days. My last shower was 3 weeks ago.

So here I was walking in the dead of night. The breeze had just begun to pick up and blow snow in my face. I guess my plan was to walk until I couldn't anymore. I hoped the cold would take me. Maybe if I was lucky it wouldn't hurt. I didn't want to be around anymore. I wasn't really suicidal - I was just done with the meaningless mechanations of an impersonal and artificial world.

Then I heard something. A voice. "Scott" it sounded so familliar. I couldn't put a face to it - but I know I recgonized it. It was a man's voice. I didn't know from which direction it came from. And I wasn't sure if it was real. "Scott" It came again. This time I thought it was coming from a side street. I rushed in that direction and into an alley. There I stood staring at the snowy ground. No one was there.

Was I going insane? I had watched my brother's descent into madness and I began to wonder if I too was fated for that. All the better, then, that the storm was getting stronger. I could no longer feel my feet.

I wandered that night in delirium. I don't remember much past that pont, but when I awoke my boots were in shreds. I found myself in a soiled bed. I was surprised to be alive, although admittedly - I wasn't sure if I was alive.

M̬̣̲̹̠̳͟y̭̰̝̟͢ ̫͇̠̙̞̰͘s͎̰͕̲̭͢k͉͚͍͎͡iņ̲͖ ̦͚͉̙w͎̠͜a͏̘̹͔͔s̟̝͎̣͉ ̝c̡̠͍̲̙̺o̬̬̯ļ͉̠̹d͖̣͖̩͜.̭̤͙̼̜ ̵̙̙͚͈̙̝̪I̡ ͔̺̦̭fe̷̳̤ͅlt҉̖̗̻̮̗ ̦͡m̲̲͔͖y ̹̠̭̣͟c̟̺̹h͙͖̦es͟t͎͔̗̜̥͟ ̡̣̰̻̯̤͙b̮̯u͎̯̤t ͈̹̠̹̩̰I̷̯̳ ̱̘͠c̤o͍̤̳u̡͔̜l̪̪͔͙͝d̻̙̝̞̦̫͞n̶'͓̮̦͘t ̳̘̰͓͍̻f̮̝̗̳̟̬̼ee̹̜̗̣̯̣͕l͜ ͏̜̰̬̟m̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬͏̜̰̬̟̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬̹͚̻͉̬ ̡̹̣̝̪͓̠̜I̡ ͍̮̣̦͟f̨̯e̦͎̺͜l҉͔̗t҉̣̠̱̻̞̲ͅ ̴t̥̺͓i̮̟̥̜̳̠r̳̦͓e̺̳̤̯̣̯d͍̼͎͔̜̫ ̼-̮͎ ̡̤̮͍̫̣̱̟mo̫̘̫̬̬̭̲r̼̺̟ȩ͇̟̗̘̣̦̤ ͚t͓͍̪̣̭̕i̭̤͢re̼̺͙͚̮̲͇d͝ ̦̤t̶̠̯͚̰̱h̦̫̬̖͓̩a̺ņ̼̹͖̙ ̸̣̯I̥̲̟̪̻̬͢ ͉̲̲͓͇̘̮ḫ̷a͉̟̦͎̱͎d̹̟ ͕͍̮̜͚ȩͅve͕̬͍r̹̳ ̷̠̜b̹͈͈͍̼̪ͅe͚͕͙͘e͖̬͍͘n̩̳͉̪͈̠ ̼͔̳̗̭̻̞́b̲̝e͍fo̲͇͚̩r̨̙̩͈ḙ̮̹̯̮̯.̯̠̱͖̱̱̯̠̱͖̱̱̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖̗͖͔̼̺͔̼̺͔̼̺͔̼̺͔̼̺̗͖̗͖͜͜͜͜͜ I scanned around the room. Everything was in dissarray. The windows were boarded up. It appeared as though this place had been abandoned years ago. But there was fresh blood on the floor. It pooled in one place near a filthy rug.

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