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Summary
You woke up one day, and you were alone. You woke up and you knew it was not something that could exist as a singular occurrence, a misfire, a sui generis kind of error. You woke with the heavy burden of knowledge. You woke knowing you would be alone for the rest of your natural-born life. You woke up, you cried and cried, but in the depths of your despair, still you hoped. You considered the fact that it might all just be one sick and senseless nightmare. You slapped yourself silly, pinched thin skin between your fingertips, splashed cool water on your face—all to no avail.
You woke up. Overnight, life had become horror. Horror, life.
You wished to go back to sleep. To escape the inescapable.
At least in sleep, there was a possibility to dream. To dream was to die. To die was to be free.