The Sky Turned Into Skyscrapers.

I don't know where to begin, or if there even is a beginning. But that doesn't make sense, cause all things have to have a beginning, right? I guess if I had to choose one, it'd be this. It seems the least wrong. Sometimes there is no right, only what's least wrong. I digress. I guess it begins like that. I met a girl, and I loved her. I say girl only because in my mind's eye that's who I see, a girl untouched, untainted by life. I wish I could have kept her that way. So sweet and pure and innocent and. She is gone now, both the innocent girl and the woman she became. I loved the woman as keenly as I loved the girl, but I don't know if she knew that. I wish I had a chance to let her know that. I'll never have that chance again. In a way, this isn't my story. It's hers. But it's mine too.

I've not been able to sleep. It's not that I've been plagued by nightmares or even worse, dreams. It's just that I can't. Sleep is good. Every minute you sleep is another minute less to live your life. Or what remains of it. As the seconds tick by you are unaware of the world, and the world of you. Sleep is good. This insomnia, it's like a self-imposed hell, a vigil. Every minute more I spend awake is another minute I spend thinking of her and thinking of what I couldn't do for her and what I didn't do for her and.

I couldn't continue dying like that. And so then, even after she was gone I couldn't stay true to her. I left the home we both shared and knew and loved and.

"Hello sir! Where would you like to go?"
"Away."
"Excellent choice sir! You don't look like you need telling, but!"
"I'm listening."
"The only baggage you can bring, is all that you can't leave behind."

I thought about it for a while, and then I came to the conclusion that,
"That's fine by me. I have left everything behind."

He gave me with a dark smile and a knowing look. As if to say, "No, you haven't."

How could he know? I shrugged and put my palms up in the air and said
"See, I didn't even bring anything. No baggage."

The look and the smile didn't go away, but he shrugged. As if to say, "You may not know it. And you may think I don't know it. But I do. You have brought baggage along."

"Have a nice day sir! Enjoy your trip!"

His grating cheerfulness was all at odds with the expression on his face when it seemed for a moment he could see right through me. The name on his name tag was Charon. I should have been alarmed or at least mildly disturbed, but it didn't matter to me. I had to get on the plane.

I got on. All around me were people buried in their books or the magazine or their screens in front of them. It should have alarmed me or at least occurred to me that I knew all of them. Beside me was my dad and beside him my mom and beside them my brothers and sisters and friends and lovers and. I knew these were the people who were no longer among the living. On the other side was her. Charon was right. I couldn't leave them behind. I couldn't leave her behind. I had brought them along with me.

I said "Hullo."

Or rather, I tried to say hello. They were not the only things I'd brought along. They came with me. My shame and guilt and regret and grief and. I could not speak with them on this plane as I could not speak with them in the real world. It occurred to me then that this was not the real world. But it did not matter to me. I had got on the plane and I had to get to my destination. But it was worse now. It was bad enough when I couldn't see them and I couldn't speak to them. Now I could see them but I still couldn't speak to them. Her. It was much worse. Going down the aisle to the toilet, I saw people from my life that brought back fragments of my life that I told myself I would never forget but I did. But in a sense I never did, or why would they appear here on this plane? People who have never known each other, they were sitting next to each other, all connected by one thing in common. Me. Are these the people whose life I've impacted, or the people who have impacted my life? Is there a difference in the two? Yes there is, and there is sadness in that truth.

Something else connects them. It is seen in their sad faces and their melancholy and their smiles which are the smiles you smile when there is nothing to smile about and. I wondered then if a plane could take off if everyone on it has a heavy heart, the pilot, the flight attendants, the passengers. Would it cross some emotional threshold and weigh the plane down? And the silence. Oh yes, what a heavy silence. I wanted to speak but I could not. They had nothing to say. I wondered then if my face would appear to someone else to be like their faces, sad and melancholy and with a smile which is the smile you smile when there is nothing to smile about. Yes, we are all connected by loss. We are none of us unaffected by it.

I saw out of the window, an incredibly tall, impossibly bright white building. And the plane seemed to be circling it."Hello. You're arriving at your destination. That is where you can drop off your baggage. Forever. And move on. You'll have closure, and maybe, dare we say it, peace."

It was Charon's voice, but no longer irritably chirpy. He was in his element, steering the boat, or in this case, my plane. And he was addressing me, there was no "Ladies and gentlemen" and he was addressing my hopes and fears. Dare I hope for closure and peace? Was it right for me to? Would it not be wrong for me to move on from her death? How could I drop off my baggage, if they were the people whom I've cared for and the people who have cared for me? How could I move on and have peace when they were dead?

The white spire no longer seemed so impossibly bright, like the few moments that my doubts assailed me were in fact hundreds upon hundreds of years which had caught up on it. But it seemed to have become taller. Graying and taller, did that mean something?"Yes, this is what you've wanted. You weren't living a life, were you? You were slowly dying. Why? Because of all this baggage. Nobody can live with all this. You have to let go. Does it feel some days like you no longer want to move? That it's too much to ask for to keep walking, to keep putting one foot ahead of the other? You are being weighed down. And now finally, you can cast it all away and live."

Is that what I want? Would I want to live life without all this baggage? Would I be allowed to pick up new pieces of baggage after dropping all these off? Would I..? I didn't know the answer. And then I did. I wanted to live again. Those of us left alive, we are left to suffer hope. The hope that there could be a life to live again. All of a sudden I had that hope.

And then I looked out the window and I saw the plane, all of us, me, we were hurtling towards the building. It was black now. A Stygian black that seemed to absorb even light into its infernal gloom. At the back of my mind I thought, how could I have even for one second mistaken this for dazzling white? It was so clear from the first time I saw it, the darkness, my mind just needed time to grasp it. I needed to hope, for without hope you cannot see the darkness, without hope you cannot define it, just as without expectation there is no failure.

It was right in front of us now. I say us but there was only me. My hopes turned into fears as the sky turned into skyscrapers. We hit. The windows shattered. I heard it but what I heard wasn't the sound of windows, it was the sound of glass hearts cracking. Boom. As the body of the plane plowed through the skyscraper. I heard it but what I heard was the sound that's made when disappointment and regret collide.

Then I thought. I want to go home. Where is home? What is it? Home is where the heart is. Home is where the hurt is. Are they one and the same?

Sleepless Nights And Neon Lights.

I stand up and walk out of my room. I stare out the window. I get back into bed. I plug in my earpiece and try to sleep. Again. I don't. I stand up and walk out of my room. I switch on the tv. Gameshow. I switch it off. I stare out the window. I lie on my bed. I still don't sleep. I hear the passage of cars in the distance. Zoooooom. I am not asleep. I stare at my phone. The time. Nobody attempted to contact me.

I go out. Down 8 stories, I head out into the streets. All those garish neon lights beckoning me with their unholy allure. All that sleaze and grime. A few bucks for some loving. Sounds like a steal. I enter.

I leave. I decide, that isn't love. That's business. A mere transaction.

I walk on. And still, the neon lights like siren song, calling out. Wanton displays of flesh. No thank you, I've had my share for tonight. Instant gratification of all forms, if I would only part with my money? I am tempted. I am repulsed. To lose myself in debauchery. I ponder for a moment. No, I don't think I'd like that. I decline.

I go back home. I try to sleep. I don't. I can still see those neon lights. I stare at the ceiling. I hear the drone of the fan. Whirrrrrrrrrrrr.

I Deal In Commodities.

I'm nobody special. A businessman whose commodity happens to be that most precious thing known to man, hope. I dispense hope, for a price. Don't ask me if the price is worth it, I'm merely the dealer. (cocked eyebrow, shrug of the shoulders.)

Oh, is that so? I don't give a shit. (slams table, real anger.) Tell me about the first one. No more bullshit.

Well, if you insist. Ah, the first one. Is it not said the first time is always the best? (another slam on the table.) Alright, alright, I'm just recounting. Well the first one, she's what you'd call a two-looker. Someone you look at once, then look again. A real beaut that one. Not terribly bright though. (scoff) Whaddya know, guess what she came in with, self-esteem and image problems. Thought she was fat and ugly. Felt that her life wasn't worth living. Way too easy, to be honest. Some mock sympathy and medical jargon and I had her. She wanted to end her misery, I did.

Shut up. I said no more of that crap. So you confess to it?

Gladly, why should I deny it? She got what she wanted, I was doing her a favour, merely fulfilling her wishes. (barely restrained fury) Okay, calm down. I'll tell you want you want to hear. The second one. Oh, one to make you weep. Like a greek tragic it was. Young lad, barely out of his teens if I remember correctly. He was seeking to escape all those (faint smile) crushing issues all young people face. Out of luck and out of love, he was snared by my promises of a solution to all his problems. I offered him hope, and he eagerly grabbed it. Oh, I asked him. Do you want a way out? No prizes for guessing what he said. I gave it to him.

(grunt) Okay that will be all for today. (gets up to leave) I'll see you in cou-

Why so hasty? Perhaps you see more than a little sense in what I'm saying? I'm not a murderer, God forbid. I'm a businessman. I give people what they want. I'm sure it doesn't shock you how many people want what I can give. Truly it doesn't. Who would pass up the chance to be free of all cares? I'm not surprised I got caught, I'm surprised you would want me caught. I'm doing the world a service. Deep inside, everyone wants to die. They just haven't come to that conclusion yet. Maybe I'm ahead of the curve, or jumping the gun a little bit. But ultimately, is what I'm doing so wrong? Ending years of misery and pain that life without fail dishes out. Tell me what's wrong with that. (silence) You can't. That will be all for today, this was taxing. And may I have a glass of water on your way out?

(silence. door slams. silence again.)

iDream.

Ladies, gentlemen. Today we unveil our latest, and the finest, in technology. We realized that your every waking moment was spent using our products, plugged into our iPods, tapping away at our MacBooks. And that the only way we could improve on how we improve your lives is to develop a product that could entertain you while you were (significant pause) asleep. Today is the day our efforts have come to fruition, I give you, the iDream. (cue applause)

Ever wanted to live a dream? Now you can. With iDream, anything is possible. No more nightmares, waking or otherwise. This is escapism in its ultimate form. Dreading the next day? Cast your worries aside every night with iDream. This groundbreaking machine will allow you to dream the dreams you want to dream. It will cater to every electrical impulse fired between the neurons in your brain, such that all your whims and desires are taken care of. Ah, I see your rapt attention dwindling away, so I shall spare you the boring details of how it works. Suffice to say that it does. It has also been tried and tested to be safe. (Oh yes, the testers are still alive, no doubt about that.)

Ladies, gentlemen. Enjoy.

The next day, no one woke up. And the day after. And the day after. They were living their dreams.

The Tears Shed Into Pillows Deep Into The Night.

As a child we were told horror stories, really nasty terrible stories of what'd happen if we did bad things. The dam would break and all the sorrows of the real world would wash over us.

But it was not our fault. That the dam finally broke from the crush of all the tears shed into pillows deep into the night. The dam-makers, they did not predict the sheer volume of grief in the real world. 10 feet thick, they built, 10 feet of solid wall against the despair the real world conjured up on a nightly basis. But it cracked, it shattered.

What is this, you ask. Who are we. We are who we are, the people of the tears shed into pillows deep into the night. Collecting every tear shed by weeping bawling mourning people crying themselves to sleep. By long, long tubes underneath the pillows of the people of the real world.

A lot of tubes, really. And a lot more tears then you'd expect, from people you don't expect. All pooling into our world. My world. And as a child gazing into all those tears, I think "What a sad, sad world."

And as I am now, awash in tears, each tear a story unto itself. The anguish of a newly orphaned boy. The bereavement of a widow. The heartbreak of a sweet lass just turned 16. The lament of a grieving father. The despair. The agony.

And still, still, they come trickling down.