In some of my posts, including the ones that are no longer there, I mentioned something about having a unique vantage point regarding… to be honest, everything. It has shaped my upbringing and my outlook from the point of an outsider, as well as someone pretending to fit in. Referring to myself as someone different seems correct from my perspective.

Till this point I wrote about the Tunnel as an ever-present entity that occupies us all, and going by that train of thought, it always leads me to the same place:

everything seems to be pointing to a resolution that it is death.

If such a creature covers us all in the way I describe, what is the point in running then? You can fight the space between you as much as you want, but in the end, there is only one way to defeat it, and that is to fill it with life. Except the way it appears to stick to my skin seems to be saying that the emptiness is no longer a part of my World, it looks like it became a part of my identity at some point. I can’t get it off… I can’t fight it…

The Tunnel is new. It materialized in a moment between two blinks of my eyes. Like an unavoidable obstacle one day it appeared in front of me, leaving me helpless to move forward without passing through it. Everything seems to be pointing to it being death. But that can’t be! Because I’m here, writing this. Still, it is true that at the same time, I am indeed drowning in that darkness deep within the Tunnel. That is the only thing keeping me from calling it that name, the only reason the other me isn’t swallowed in darkness already. So it can’t be called death… at least not yet.

This is reason enough why I write this: I feel defeated, don’t know what else to do, except tell you about me and maybe that way, remain in the world. I write out of fear.

Yes, I’ll admit it now, what else do I have to lose: I seem to be able to do this because I am different, so why not use it to try and get myself out of this situation?

I won’t pretend to be unique. My specific difference is that I appear to be “no one”, and as such the Tunnel never enveloped me fully.

While another person in this situation would have only two choices: to pass through it or stay in front of it; stagnant in place, waiting to weather away in limbo. I have another option available to me, and that is to stay in this spot spiritually, while physically I could move forward to find a way out of this situation.

Yes, I won’t pretend I’m unique. it’s just while a healthy mind built through evolution and experience would learn to fear, accept, and do what it must, mine chooses differently. The sad truth is I consider myself not special, but a functioning sociopath.

While the darkness of night and a play of shadow invoke in us all illusions of suspicious people sparked by imagination, a healthy mind quickly sees them for what they are: oddly positioned objects seen at just the right angle to form a silhouette similar to one of a person, but it all lasts just long enough to trick us. Soon after we are back in the safety of reality. I, on the other hand, would wonder why that person is trying to hide disguised as an object and put effort into not losing sight of them.

“That is a person, not an object!” I would insist until what isn’t there would be. Don’t know why I do it, but I can’t help it… it’s just what I see.

A never-ending world of dancing shadows clouds my vision of reality during every moment of my life. But I am far from lost to madness. That layer of the world is very silent and secluded. It takes me effort to see it, and even more to communicate with it. It is there only because I… “want it to be”… Even though it is not a completely accurate description, it’s the best one I can think of. Only in rare moments do they show themselves in a way that I cannot… “not see them.” Be it in physical form, a comforting force, or something as simple as a whisper in the ear.

For you who lost respect for what is written, judging me as stupid and weak for choosing a destiny so sad as a mental illness, I offer these words as comfort:

I have decided that every second word I write here, will be a lie.

A decision that may bring comfort to you who would follow my story as otherworldly, but one that was actually made for the rest of you. May this decision keep you interested in my story in those times that reason compels you to stop reading my ridiculous tale. In those times, use reason to consider it logically:

what out of all you read, is by probability most likely that lie?