Alone in a wide open field of tall grass and sparse shrubs, I was taking pictures of the scenery. I had hiked out here from a state park. Even after the trail had abruptly ended at the edge of this vast field, I kept exploring off-trail.
After about half a day of hiking through the isolated landscape of gently rolling hills, I came to the top of a low hill. Before me, I saw a small town nestled in a grove of old oak trees. There were no roads or paths that led to the town; it was seemingly cut off from the world.
As I got closer, I could see that all the buildings were early 20th century brick buildings of various shapes and sizes, many of them two stories. There were recently paved asphalt paths connecting the buildings, and the yards were plain freshly cut grass with old oak trees towering overhead, providing and abundance of shade.
Although the buildings' exteriors were all brick, weathered from a century of being exposed to the elements, there was evidence that they had all been recently restored. All the structures had new roofs, new mortar, new windows, and new exterior vintage decor.
The town had only a handful of people walking around, and I suddenly felt their eyes on me. They glared at me, sending me a clear message that I wasn't welcome there. I was already accustomed to this vibe for much of my life, so it didn't surprise me.
The first building I entered was a general store. The interior was modern, and I noticed stage lighting suspended from the ceiling. There were also cameras inconspicuously mounted to the walls, and I felt that my every move was being closely monitored, intruding my sacred privacy.
Feeling imposed upon, I left the store, and went into the neighboring building, which was an art studio. There were boxes of painting supplies and empty canvases of various sizes laying up against the walls. There was no one in there, so I wandered around. I went up to the second floor, which was an art exhibit. I took pictures of the various paintings that were on display.
I explored the town, and it seemed to me that each building served a specific purpose that pertained to creativity in some way. There was a dance studio, photo studios with various themes, soundstages, and several larger buildings that served as film studios. Even the restaurants and coffee shops had stage and photography equipment embedded into them, making them into studios as well.
One thing I did notice, however, was the complete lack of houses or other residential structures. Where did everyone live? The whole town seemed to be one isolated multi-purpose studio, and the only vibe I got was that everyone watched and monitored everyone else.
I finally came to the last building I hadn't yet entered. It was a basic two-story building that had an all black first floor that had BDSM equipment, sex toys, and filming equipment. Apparently, I had entered a porn studio. There was no one in the room, but as I glanced around, I heard a muffled moaning and clapping sound. Seemingly coming from upstairs, I slowly and quietly made my way up the stairs. The higher up I got, the louder the moaning and clapping got.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I peered around the corner as discreetly as I could. The second floor was one open room with blood red walls, and in the center of it was an enormous bed with black velvet sheets. On the bed was the desire of my dreams, Katherine, getting fucked hard by her lover. She had a giant grin on her face, getting pleasure and happiness from her partner.
With deep pain, my heart sunk into my bowels. I had seen this before, perhaps in another dream, but I felt nothing but numbness.
They hadn't seen me, so I slunk back down the stairs and out of the building.
In a daze of confusion, heartbreak, and numbness, everything was a blur around me. I could overhear passersby whisper about me, mentioning my name, calling me a stalker and a predator. How did they know who I was? I felt like I was being stalked and watched with malicious intent. I had been heartbroken and disappointed so many times in my life that I had become completely and utterly numb to it.
It had become clear to me that I wasn't wanted, that I was hated and despised, unworthy of and denied basic human interaction and needs. I was trash.
So it was, then, that I would end it once and for all. This world wasn't worth existing in.
I found a meat cleaver in a kitchen studio building, and I wandered back out into the desolate fields.
Sitting down, I took the meat cleaver and cut out my tongue, since silence had always been my solution for my own pain. I felt no pain, because I was too numb.
Then, I chopped off my penis, because obviously I was a predator. Besides, I had been having ED problems for a while now, so it had to go. "Use it or lose it," as they say. I felt no pain, because I was too numb.
Next, I chopped off my left arm, because my reach was too harmful and offensive to the masses. I felt no pain, because I was too numb.
Finally, I chopped off both of my feet, because they were the footwork of the movements of my peculiar and misunderstood nature. I felt no pain, because I was too numb.
As I lay there bleeding out, isolated and alone and numb, I stared at the sky, relieved to be leaving this plane of existence.
~~~~~~~~~~
Slowly drifting upward, I could see my butchered and massacred body in pieces on the ground. Time seemed to move rapidly, and the ground around my body grew crimson from the spilled blood, and trees began to spring up around my decaying, forgotten, and rotting body. The more I floated away into oblivion, the larger the trees grew, becoming a grotesque grove, overtaking the serene fields around it.
Fading into obscurity and non-existence, it had become clear that I would never come back.