It’s all a fallacy. All of it. They’re saying it happened, but it doesn’t matter. They’re all against me.

Who am I? I don’t see why it matters. After all, I don’t exist. Some call me Life. Others say that I am Death. Contradictory, yes, but then again, many things contradict itself. If you must refer to me, call me Luce. Why that? Because the word is from a long, forgotten language, and is supposed to mean “light, glowing”. It is yet another contradiction, since it contradicts with what exists today: a sunless, barren wasteland. But why should it matter? It’s all gone.

To whoever may be reading this, you are witnessing what’s left of a world gone mad, a world that no longer exists. Nothing exists. This…probably doesn’t exist either. Everything now belongs to the realm of the dead, without really dying. And, if that is so, then whoever is reading this is also dead.

You think me insane. I am. But I’m all that’s left of sanity. Because I am dead, sanity can no longer die. What is it to be sane anyway? Does the concept change? What can change in a dead world?

Ah, you ask, but how can the world be dead if I woke up this morning to find it just the same as before? The world is not comprised of what we see with our two eyes, you see. An old and now-irrelevant concept once said that we, as humans, do not perceive reality directly. We, instead, choose to form internal, non-existent realities within ourselves. One tiny crack in our realities, and our whole world can die in an instant. It happens every day…

Who am I? Still you ask. You must realize that it doesn’t matter. You must realize that you should accept the fact that I exist and nothing more. If so, then why…? I see. But, I can’t answer that. Not yet. By the time I do, you may have realized the answer already, though it’s not likely. The simplest answers are the hardest to see, just as the hardest things are simplest in manner.

Instead of answering who I am, I will answer who I was.

Fourteen years old. A young kid still, the summer before high school were to begin. The loss of childlike innocence can occur at any age…but it is common to see it at this age. There are very few who die at this age. But many have sensitive and fragile souls. Events that can occur may severely crack that person’s soul…but many times, they don’t shatter completely. They stay together, with patches and strings.

This kid was…happy at most. He had a fairly normal life. He had friends. He liked girls. He skateboarded, played video games, and was basically his age. Yet, he couldn’t have the one most important thing a person should. The boy usually avoided his home. Once a week at least though, he had to return home. He could never avoid it.

He and his mother…it‘s not that they didn‘t get along. It was just this feeling he had, ever since he was little, that she disliked him and couldn’t care less about him. She talked like she loved him, but he knew it wasn’t real love. He could never figure out why. I watched. She…had died. She had succumbed to insanity, shortly after he was born. All that was left in her was an instinct to keep on living physically. Day after day, she kept him on eggshells. A little slip-up on his part, and he would sometimes not reappear to the outside world for weeks.

One particular night, he came home an hour late then he told his mother he would. That week, he’d made up the excuse that he had to stay over a friend’s house to finish a project of sorts. Of course he didn’t tell her the real reason was to get away from her, as usual. He quietly entered the house, knowing that his mom would be in her room. Hoping his mom wouldn’t hear him, he walked up the stairs to his room, but as he closed the door, he was careless, and the door squeaked loudly. Sure enough, he heard his mom coming.

Where were you, I’ve been worried SICK! I lost track of time, mom! You ALWAYS loose track of time! I never see you around anymore! And look at your room, it’s a mess! Mom, what the hell do you want from me, I’ve been busy! You’re always busy! Well I’m SORRY DAMMIT! Don’t you swear at me! Okay, you know what, just tell me WHAT I’m doing wrong! I want you to be good and be around the house so I won’t have to worry! Look, mom, are you done, because I’m sick of hearing it! You know what? What mom?! I wish you’d never been born, and were dead instead of your father!

And I watched. I watched how the realization of the truth dawned on a person. I watched how a sentence cracked a person’s soul so hard, it almost broke completely. I watched a person almost die.

And I say, the world is dead.

And he looks at me. Few, if any, have ever heard me, let alone seen me.

And he asks, why?

The world is dead.

How can that be?

Look around. Sanity is dead. You live with a dead person. Even you are almost dead. The world is dead.

Seventeen years old. A high school senior. Personally, I could never understand the concept of high school. It seems to be nothing more then a place where insecure adolescents struggle to be noticed and to be more popular. It’s contradicting and frustrating. But then…so is being dead while still being alive…

Continuing. This girl, she never belonged. Ever since she entered her new school, she knew that she would never be accepted by others. Her estranged father had sent her there, and she had no say in the decision. She did try her best but…no one cared. So she remained an outcast. And I watched.

Only one person understood and knew her. Even I could see the rareness of him. He was one of the few who was still truly alive. There was no romantic love. It’s not necessary when two soul mates meet. She understood him, he understood her, and when that’s established, romance wasn’t even necessary. And I watched, seeing as how one person changed another.

Hey, anyone home? …hello? Hey, c’mon, quit hiding! Did you and- wha… H-hey, are you okay? Wake up now. This isn’t funny! Huh? Blood? No…no you didn’t! It’s not true! Tell me you didn’t, just sit up and laugh and tell me it’s a joke! You have to! Huh, what’s this…?

For you, I desire everything. Keep on living. For the both of us.

Damn you…God…why…

And I watched.

Here I am. At your funeral, of all places. Look, peppermint roses, your favorite. …Why are you all smiling and enjoying yourselves? A human being just DIED, and you’re all here like this is some social gathering! Have you lost your senses as human beings?! You…all of you…you deserve to be dead, not him!

The world is dead, I say

What? Who’re you, she asks.

The world is dead.

Wha-what do you mean?

The world is dead.

How can that be?

The world is dead.

HOW? Everyone is here, walking, talking, breathing! I’m here, I’m still alive! How can it be dead?

It’s as you said. People are no human. Many, so very many, are dead. He was a fortunate one. He was not dead. He was one of the few living angels walking the earth. And you…you are dying, and will soon be dead. Sanity is dead, and I no longer exist. Neither does the world that once was.

Dead people walk among you, every day, among all of us. You seem confused. It’s simple enough: some people die on the inside. Am I dead? Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how you look at things. For me, I see everything behind stained glass, before my death, and after. Things seem foggy to me, yet they are there, clear as day. I see but don’t touch, hear but don’t listen, talk but don’t speak. Sanity is dead, yet I’m still here.

It’s all a fallacy. All of it. They’re saying it happened, but it doesn’t matter. They’re all against me.

Who am I?

I am you.