I was bored.

Chapter 1

Presence

He woke up to the steel cold air biting his toes. The blanket he wishfully wrapped himself in the night before had lost it's place. His eyes were still closed and the grip on his muscles in his jaw were taught. He wrinkled his eyes as he crunched and curled his body to finally arising into a sitting position. He hugged his knees as he ran through the spontaneous thoughts he had imagined in his sleep. The girl who smiled at him in the coffee shop. The bug he followed on his hands and knees as it carried crumbs. The ship he saw on television carrying his car keys. He realized the ridiculousness and how unconnected his thoughts were. He spent an hour in bed. Writhing. He laid pillows behind his back against the wall to use like a couch. It reminded him of therapy.

Therapist: So what did you think about when you grabbed the knife?

Matheus: I didn't think.

Therapist: Are you sure? You didn't think of anything that made you sad?

Matheus: I thought of her.

Therapist: Who?

Matheus: Nevermind.

Therapist: You've come across something you feel would change what  I think of you. I'm nothing more then a mirror or a reflection in the water.

Matheus: You're wrong. You're more like reality.

He looked at the scars on his wrists. He thought of how they took him away from life. He thought it was beautiful. The way the body could heal itself so easily. Holding his arm up infront of his face the dim green lights of modern technology peered in the corner of his eye. The clock read 7:47. He realized he was late for work. Nearly an hour had passed since he woke. Work had no feeling to him. He couldn't describe it. It was inborn in his mind that as a man he should work so he did. He quickly ate his breakfast as he saw it more as fuel rather then a delicious taste or texture. He walked down the stairs of his apartment, hoping not to come across another. He hated people. He felt those he didn't know were equal to wolves in the wild. He dared not to make eye contact, and when he did he would stare them in the eye and reflect their emotion. He'd blackout when he spoke. Never remembering the conversation but rather the sensation. Pain. He forgot he moved to the city. A place where people gathered. He hailed a cab as soon as he got to the curb and spoke "35th st and 8th ave." He moved to the city to get close to his now ex-girlfriend.