I never imagined it would come to this. Every breath has become a constant reminder. How am I to escape? What would await me upon my liberation? These questions tug at every fiber of my being, every ounce of my essence. I feel an undeniable urge to scream, but there is not enough oxygen in the world to power such an action.
The shag carpet engulfs my knees as cold steel presses against my temple. Minuscule details become the most important element of my existence. My plain, unadorned, beige walls. My small, rectangular window looking onto an unending expanse of red brick. My unmade bed. My soiled stove. My unyielding apathy.
I have become the victim of my circumstances, or perhaps my circumstances have become of victim of me. Either way it does not matter. Its hard to trace the series of events that led to this moment, to number the acts that precede this final curtain. Seeing, however, that there will be no encore; I will try my best.
I could be described as an average male. I have loved, I have hated, I have endured the crushing weight of mediocrity. As a child I had delusions of grandeur. I slayed dragons, fought fires, entertained entire concert halls with my musical prowess, but as I walked the fine line between reality and dementia a nagging doubt rose in my mind. Tomorrow quickly became today and the child became a young man. A young man who was anything but exceptional. I traded in my fire hose for a tight collar and a suffocating tie.
Terms like love, adventure, and chivalry quickly became replaced by market share, vacation time, and chauvinism. Instead of romance I dreamed of tightly packed meat with nothing to offer other than a release from the hormones that clouded my thoughts.