I just cannot go on,
To whoever finds this, this is my only confession. It was 1980 and my wife and I had just moved in to our new town house. We were just married and settling into the motions of our lives. My wife would stay home and tend the garden and house, then go for her run later just before I got home from work. I would run in the morning, then shower and head to my daily job. It was the same for three months. It was the same, but I loved it that way.
In October just as the leaves were shifting to orange, I set out on my morning run. I smiled and kissed my wife goodbye, but it was the last I've had of either. I set off down the street and just about a mile down, I felt I was being watched. I felt something creeping in on me at all angles and just as I heard the sounds of my attackers, everything went black, all except for their eyes. It’s been so long since then, time cannot be measured here. I've tried counting, but the only thing I can count is my heartbeat and that drives me more and more insane each day.
They stole me from my life, plucked me from it like a wild cherry. Each day I still run, I face the maze. I can still feel the eyes on me as I devour the placebos they line in front of me. So many pills, I cannot stop, I still feel them watch me, creeping in on me, and capturing me. When they do, sometimes I dream I’m looking in the mirror and my wife is looking back, wearing the pretty pink bow I had gotten her for our six month anniversary. Still, I wake to the maze and eat and eat and eat. Hoping to find a real dose tucked away in some corner of the labyrinth. I can feel them drawing closer, getting faster. My only hope is the drug and they have trained me to know this without a shadow of a doubt.
Mere moments after ingesting the right meds, even if they lay dirty in the gutter, my senses shift the phantoms are given flesh and they are viable prey for me. I have only moments, but in those moments I devour them too. I feast upon them all of them, all but their eyes. The cold eyes stare back at me, cowing me into back into the twisted cage that is the maze. I have lost count as to how many I have gorged myself on, but the hunger never stops. I still hope to find my way out, away from the ensnaring stares that force me to binge. I fear that my hope is waning and in truth I just cannot go on. If you find this, oh God if you find this, I pray you do not share my fate as well.
Lost and Scared,