Chapter 1 : I Must Be Dreaming

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Normal days don't always start off with the easiest tasks. A loud noise erupted from the silence of a long restless night of sleep. I couldn't comprehend what the noise was or where it was coming from only that it was constant and unwanted where I was. It was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing, only heard it. The noise continued. Beep. beep. Beep.

Why the hell is it still going? I can't see any object in the room all I can hear is this obnoxious noise coming from god knows where. I don't understand the reasoning behind this growing noise on my right side. I tried to move but I couldn't. My mind was playing it's own game and I wasn't a part of any decision making. I could see what was happening but I couldn't understand it. The darkness engulfed my soul, my body, my mind. I still heard this aggravating noise but I tried to pay no mind and just figure out what was going on. I can't move. I can't speak. I can't imagine what this could do to my psyche. Dark is all I felt. I could see the world not so clearly in my head. What is my head? I still couldn't tell where I was in this unknown state. I could see the specific details of everything going on in this miserable piece of solar system. The scariest thoughts clouded my mind. Beep. Beep. beep.

I could see the deepest secrets I could never reveal to those even the closest to me. I could feel the Earth's cries from inside it's broken crust and crowded skin. The trees were dying, the fish, the food, everything was being filled to the brim with this darkness I was seeing. Was this what it was? All the darkness that was engulfing our world into a black hole. The noise continued for longer but I was too distracted by my wandering thoughts. The world we live in is so deranged and nothing is able to fix it at this point. We all tried to help but no one listened and what did we get from it? We're in a world that is falling apart at the seams. The people are corrupted by the money and control of the major industries and other power hungry businesses. This world has begun to die in it's own shadow. The darkness has spread to the core of our planet and is eating it from the inside until there will be nothing left but people who will die in a matter of seconds. Beep. beep. Beep.

The people want to murder each other. Splatter blood on the faces of those they despise. Spill the guts of those who have done them wrong in their lifetime. The world will end up being another purge as it once was. The crimes committed by those who haven't committed any crimes at all. Those who have paid no mind to those around them have been dealt the worst of punishments. The world just spins when everything has stopped and the stillness of the universe makes everything else worth living once more. No sense is to make of the Earth and its crust burning, yet thriving. The death will be a sorrowful time for those who will live forever in the memories of those passed. Nothing will live, nothing will breath, nothing will swim, nothing will eat. There will be nothing left on this miserable hell hole. The whole fight for freedom will mean nothing. All that has been worked so hard on to be accomplished will be nothing, so why do we do it? For the gain in that time and place? There would be nothing after life to be gained. Those who have worked life and death to achieve the impossible but the only thing they gain is attention. Who pays attention once we are one more millenia into the future. Those who are written about haven't gained much other than the attention they were seeking to begin with. They didn't know they needed the attention until they finished their greatest accomplishment and it was all for the glory of being talked about. Those who weren't there to see it still pay attention but those who were there nearly forgot about what the biggest deal was. Beep. beep. Beep.

The slightest of errors made the biggest work put into it nothing more than pen to paper. But then again what is the meaning of those who wrote about others. They weren't there to see it so can we truly trust them. Though, then again, there are those who were there but if we ourselves weren't there how do we believe what they say. Is it all just based on trust of those we never knew other than the stories told about others and the format they created to make it a story for us to read? Then again, aren't all our lives just a story for those above to read as they please. Our whole life could just be one big book for those above to read to the children of clouds and birds. Of course how do we really know we are living? When we think about it we don't truly know if we are real. We could all just be the thought of one person. Interacting with those of that person's imagination. We could all be just one figure of an imagination of one we don't even know called God. Beep. beep. Beep.

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