A short introduction to a short story.

     I am what I am, or at least I think I am. Maybe I am nothing at all. Maybe I am just a figment of my own imagination. A twisted joke in a cosmos with no sense of humour. No.  I like to laugh or at least… At least I think I do. I am not sure anymore it’s kind of hard to remember the little details. You know the things that all add up together in those weird but wonderful arrangements that somehow make us, us.  I guess I am a jigsaw puzzle with a piece missing or maybe I am the missing piece of a jigsaw and somewhere out there is the rest of me waiting to be put back together.  A whole collection of memories and fragments of my personality just laying around questioning their own mortality while I, the missing piece wonders how the fuck I got here, or more importantly wondering how the fuck I will get back.

  It is kind of funny when you think about it. Like how the birth of number zero created infinite possibilities with numbers, but a synonym of zero means nothing. So when you really think about it nothing created everything and everything was created by nothing, just like life itself. Or at least that’s what science claims. You know the whole big bang… Shit. I just remembered something. Something important that has zero to do with numbers, but everything to do with big bangs.

  I think I was in an explosion. A big fiery explosion of hell fire and burning brimstone. Maybe that is why I am experiencing a sudden interest in puzzles. It could be very likely that I have body parts floating around all over the place. An arm here, a leg there. I could even be dead and this strange internal dialogue is just the fleeting moments of my mind trying to establish meaning to this crazy situation, and these thoughts are really just my last few seconds alive before I finally fade away…(waits a moment)… Nope still here. But seriously I am really not sure what is happing yet, but I have a feeling it will be pretty epic on the scale of messed up.

   In fact, while I think about it, I have a feeling that whoever I am, I am no stranger to the strange and unusual. Call it intuition. A natural and instinctual thought process that has transcended through my possible death, and into my broken consciousness. That’s if I have a consciousness. Maybe I have always existed this way, but then I just forgot. For all I know I could have had this conversation a million times over and am stuck in an endless and repetitive circle of babble. Fuck that. I am already board of myself and I don’t even know who I am.

 I think I am going to stop now. All these thoughts and theories are giving me a headache. The kind that eats away at you slowly with its dull, but endless monotone hum that vibrates in the centre of your brain and makes your head feel like it is physically about to explode! There I go again talking about things going bang.  See, I nearly started myself off on another expedition of the mind. At least I have established I have a mind, and a head and thoughts. And of course if I have thoughts then I have a me, or am a me or an I. Fuck it. I am just going to stop thinking all together now. I am getting nowhere fast and I can’t remember if I am in a hurry…


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