• It's been days in this place. Maybe even weeks. I wouldn't be surprised if I'd been trapped here for months. No food. No light. No sound. Silence. Dark. Unforgiving cold. It's the land of the forgotten. A deep and desolate place that fills my every pore, every bone, every fiber of my being with contempt for my creator. I'm lost. Hopelessly so.

    I remember, vague pinpoints in the distance, a time when I was happy. A time when I existed. A time when this dark place, this quiet room, didn't exist. A time when the sun hit my face and I could feel its warmth and glow and I loved it. And I was alive. And now...

    I've been here for so long, I'm sure there's nothing left for me out there. The real world, what is that? It's a figment of my imagination. There has never been a real world. Only this room. Only this darkness. If I reach my hand in front of my face, I cannot see, but I can feel the walls of my tomb. There's nothing beyond those walls. Only dementia.

    I think about them sometimes. The people I thought I knew. The people I thought I loved. Who loved me. We were a family. Close. Happy. But not. There was so much that was wrong. So much that didn't make sense. It never did. It never will. I didn't exist in that place, not truly. I was just a space-saver. Just a bookmark. Just a reminder. Real life is around the corner. Take a left at the man in red. He won't mind if you stop and say hello on the way, but remember where you were going. You weren't going to visit him. He's unimportant. Frivolous. Invisible.

    I cried last night, for the first time since the darkness began. I wept like a child. Curled in on myself, and cried for hours. And I heard their voices. And I heard them and I wanted to call to them, but there was no voice in my throat. No words would come to me. I was gone. Lost. Forever. And their voices faded until the only sound was my weeping.

    I'm tired. I'm sick. I'm thirsty and starved. I don't know what time it is. I don't know what day it is. I don't even know my own name anymore. I just know that I can't do this. I can't keep up. I can't. I can't. And yet... Here I sit.

    Lost.

    It's so dark. I long for the sun, each night (I assume there are nights here) when I lie down to sleep. I imagine waking to the feel of the sun on my face. The covers slipping over my legs and arms and the sun shining and welcoming me back to the world. Hello. Wake up. You've been asleep for so long. I missed you. Did you miss me?

    Yes. I did. I have. I will forever.

    It's so quiet. I long for their voices again. My friends, my family, my love, my children. All of them. I want to hear them. We missed you. We're going to the park. Come with us. We'll get ice cream and we'll laugh and joke and be a family again. It's everything you always wanted. We're so happy you're back. Did you miss us like we missed you?

    Yes. I did. I have...

    I won't anymore. I can't. Thinking of these things. Missing them. Wanting them. Aching for the touch of the sun, of a hand, of love. No. Not in this dark place. Never for me again. I'm gone.

    I think... I think I'm done. I think I can go now. I don't have to sit here anymore. I can leave.

    Not back to the real world. No. Never back there. But I can leave here. And that's enough for me.

    Even as I think these thoughts, the door to the real world starts to form. It's within my reach. I can taste the sun. I can feel their hands. I can smell the ocean. I can breathe again. For a moment. The light is so bright, so beautiful, so perfect.

    What would happen if I turned that doorknob and stepped back out into that world I've been away from for so long now? Would there be love, like I remember? Would there be warmth? Comfort? Would anyone remember me? Have I outlived my welcome? Have they all moved on?

    I guess there's only one way to find out. It's to turn that knob and step outside. Into the real world again. God, give me the strength to face this. I'm scared.