Dave and the Dark

The world changes at the speed of thought.

Trouble is, Dave doesn't change at all.

Somewhere along the road Dave's mind went dark.

Dark with thoughts of the unfairness of life, dark with thoughts of the petty stupidity of others, dark with thoughts about mortality and the futility of finding a purpose in life.

He didn't know how to relax, hence the chemicals and brown liquids, and he forgot how to have fun.

A weight hovered over him, pressing him down and away from where he needed to go. A weight that closed his mind, prevented it from evolving and trapped him in a stationary existence.

It wasn't this way for him when he was younger. He had vague memories of laughter and looseness, tied to a time when his gut wasn't tight all the time.

There were family movies to document his previous self. Scenes that showed him joking, play-acting, goofing around and generally wearing life lightly on his shoulders.

Those movies were gone now. Lost or destroyed, Dave wasn't sure which version was true.

He wished he could find them so he could study them like a course in human behavior. Watch them over and over again, taking notes, breaking down his personality, trying to discover the source of mind freedom, so he could integrate that back into the lonely man he was today.

It felt like those tapes were the key to everything. Like when he realized they were gone he realized he was gone.

But it was useless. The tapes were gone and he was stuck in a one dimensional world.

Dave had no trouble living in the now. He had nothing else. The past was lost and there was no future.

The sun was shining brilliantly through the bay window in Dave's living room. It was 82 degrees outside and a gentle breeze was tinkling the wind chimes on his obnoxious neighbor's porch.

He pulled down the shade, blocking out almost all of the light. He poured himself a massive glass of whiskey, stripped off his clothes and lay down on the chilly kitchen floor.

Waiting for tomorrow to come. Hoping that it wouldn't.