Stories of the Erased

Prologue

Here's the thing. Well, actually, there are many things, billions of them, but I'll start with this one: everything you experience is both nothing and everything.

Think about it. You don't know if what you see or think or smell is real or not. You just don't. It's a simple concept, really. In all of those damn philosophy books on the shelves of principals and lawyers that are there to make those shitheads look smart, they probably talk about the idea of reality. There is no way to tell whether or not you see the true side of the universe. Hey, maybe there isn't even a universe in the first place.

Like I said, simple concept. One you've probably heard before. You thought about it and lived the next couple hours or days (depending on what kind of person you are) questioning everything around you. But then you are sucked back into the vortex of life, of friends and school and work, and you let your brain believe what you see around you. Maybe the cycle continues, maybe it doesn't. Whatever happens, though, nobody ever applies that questioning to everything they do. The brain is forced to take momentary breaks.

If you are reading this and are thinking 'Wow, I've done that before', well congratu-fucking-lations, Mycroft. I commend you for applying what I just wrote to your life in general. Must take skill.

If you are reading this and are thinking 'Wow, what a sarcastic bitch you are', or 'Wow, she just made a Sherlock Holmes reference, or 'Wow, all of my thoughts are beginning with wow', then again, kudos to you for the astonishing observations. I grade you a mark higher from the former group in Noticing 101.

But that's you. Me, and people like me who I have never met, you read this and think nothing. You simply stitch it in with your other thoughts. You do this because you know that you'll find other things that will tell you more. By throwing it in with all the other information in your brain, you are not losing that thing but connecting them all and therefore applying that thing to all in life. The brain doesn't skip out. And you move on. But that's if you're like me, which I doubt you are. Nobody is like me.

Cool, you say, but who cares? Why should it matter to me whether or not what I see is reality or how you think?

That brings me to the point of this thing, not that there necessarily has to be one. First of all, it seems that I just wasted the past 439 words on someone who does not give a shit. Well, so be it. If you don't care about that or the concentration of reality in your day-to-day lives, it doesn't matter to me. Not anymore at least. And I'm not going to sit here and convince you to care. That's not what this is.

This is how I found nearly all the answers I wanted in life but one. This is how I tried so hard to find it that I ended up shattering all the rest. This is how I broke alongside them. This is how I bled on all the shards, a picture of perfect agony.

Maybe it was fake.

Maybe it wasn't the true reality.

But for something that wasn't real, it sure hurt like hell.