The sensation is peculiar. Everything is nothing but consciousness. Existing through my memories that pass by on a continuous timeline. I don’t know where my mind begins, and my body ends, or if I even have a body. Once nothing, and now something. Just floating. But I remember my name is Ryan. I existed out there, whatever out there means.

It’s been months since I have opened my eyes, but I see. Each event of my life ticks by in vivid color and meaning. Falling off my bike when I was five. I can feel the skin that goes missing from my knee. I run home with blood running down my legs as my friends look on in shock. I run into my house into my healthy mother’s arms. I can feel the love I feel now as I float when she puts her arms around me. Unconditional, an all-enveloping…

“There never really was just, nothing. Ya, sure there was a Big Bang, but that was only necessary to push matter into slow revolving balls of rock. It really is a marvelous sight to see. I’d seen the process many times before and never got sick of watching it. Witnessing a new reality set in motion is something I could never forget like much of my ilk did forget.

They went to their chosen balls of rock to live out the illusion of life and death. This human life, as they named it. No longer did they want to know just how old they really were. Kind of like a conscious vacation I guess. I was never one of those that needed a holiday.

In one of these existences or planets, as they would become known, I saw wasted space turn into a walking talking being. Well, I guess they…

Peephole

James didn’t believe he deserved any of the things in his apartment. The big screen TV sitting on the solid oak entertainment center was a constant reminder of how he didn’t deserve to be alive. His chest moving up and down was a constant reminder. He didn’t deserve to be alive after what he had done. Not after the screeching tires broken glass, blood, and the screams. Oh god the screams. The screams woke him up at night.
Everyone told him it wasn’t his fault, even his parents. But every time he looked into their eyes he saw how they felt. It was there. The place behind their eyes, as obvious as a blinking light. “You killed her.” It said. “You killed our baby girl, you killed your sister.” None of the late night crying sessions with his mother, or the reassuring pats on the back from his father…

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I woke up in darkness and silence. The ground under me itched my face. I sat up slowly and looked at what I was laying on. There was just enough light shining through a dirty window on my right to see I was sleeping on an old threadbare carpet that smelled of misty mornings and chilly nights. I heard muffled footsteps, and I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep, and not doing a very good job of it. The memories of the day came spilling back into my head, depositing themselves in my chest and gut where I pushed them further down with my mind. Memories that had sharp blades and cut quick if you didn’t force them down into the dark. I saw Mama’s face smiling down at me through unforgiving flames. I felt the loss deep…