A dream came to me in the night. I was just a child again, playing on the swings in my grandmother's back yard. A mother swan came ashore, from the lake, with three signets. Try as I might, (though they could not fly), I could not catch the signets. We ran about in a circle, until the mother bit me in the hand. When she bit me, I lost the innocent glint in my eyes, and became terrifyingly aware of my existence in an indifferent world. I could see the strain in my father's eyes as he tried to provide for a fledgling family. I could see the scorn a man suffers, when he falls to his knees to beg. The pain of being man... Everything seemed to make less sense after that. All the answers, which I can find to explain myself, only lead to more questions.

Since I woke, I have had a feeling like I am being watched. Everything is disjointedly spinning, so that I cannot make heads or tails of it. I keep looking out of the peep hole on my door, half expecting to see somebody waiting there; but each time I look, the hallway is clear... Empty, and illuminated with a strange green, flourescent afterglow. I stand at the end of the kitchen, but it is just empty space. I pull a book off the shelf, start to read it, put it down, pick it up again, and finally put it away. Everything is painfully heavy. I light a cigarette, trying to blow the smoke out the window. It is bright out, and the sky is a color blue, as is only existent in California.

I consider going out, but hesitate perhaps just a moment too long. I'd rather just watch the clouds pass from here. I can't socialize like other people. I can't walk into a crowded room, and pretend to be comfortable, I am overwhelmed. People are no longer human, we can't look in each other's eyes. The walls constrict, and I feel as though I am the only existentent person. I feel the same way on the crowded sidewalk, but at least I can run from it. Try to find a corner in which to hide, but I can't shake the feeling that I am either a coward or a criminal. Yet I am niether. I don't fear people, only interacting with them. Something about it feels strange, awkward, as if everyone is trying to see who's side your on... I feel as though I've walked into a mother bear's den, and she is sizing me up.

Millions of people walk those streets, and somehow so confidently. Perhaps they can't see how infintesimally small they are in comparison to the world around them. Perhaps they don't understand that a sky scrapper looks like an ant colony from space. While I've locked myself up, crushed by infinity, they stand like Goliath atop their shrines, their tower of babel, their science and logic, and their gods, and like Atlas, they never shrug. But not because they know what responsibility means! No they do not think of responsibility! For the man who thinks of responsibility, will never act... The thinking man will never take a leap of faith... Yet that is just what I will do.

'You will not do anything,' you may be clattering, 'you've already thought too much of it, and now you shall never act,' but when the time comes gentlemen, when the time comes  you will see what the mind is capable of. Why, a man can hurl himself off of a twenty story bridge! What things, then, must I be capable of.