i'm standing at the edge of the pier, and with the fog so thick, i can't see three feet ahead of me, but i can hear the water lapping against the wooden posts supporting the dock. it feels like i'm on the edge of the world now, and what lies beyond are demons waiting for you to stretch your arms out past the fog, and once you do, they'll grab for you from the fog like a 3-d movie. it gets even thicker now, and it creeps into my lungs trying to choke me, like a smokey demon posessing my respiratory system.

but no, the fog isn't choking me, it's breathing new life into me. it's rejuvenating me. i'm forgetting about the pain running down the sides of my face. i'm forgetting all about how just moments ago, i put a gun to my head and repainted the walls in a lovely new color called Brain Matter Grey. all of that is forgotten.

the fog is my savior now. no one can touch me. the mist is embracing me like a mother would a child, and i can no longer be hurt by anything.

because you see, just beyond the fog await demons. if i were to reach out beyond that fog, then i'd be fighting for my life, and the doctors might be able to revive me from that fatal, self-inflicted headwound.

but i'm tired of fighting. i'm tired of having something to prove. this is where it's at. standing here on this ocean pier, the fog obstructing my vision, the water serenely lapping against the wooden posts...this is where i belong.

i now understand.

to live is to accept death, yet death is the only proof that you ever lived.

i'll never reach out into the fog and let those demons take me back into existence. i will not return to the empty insanity that is life. though i'd be breathing and my heart would beat against the bones of my chest, that wouldn't be living.

this, here, this is the life.

i now have nothing left to prove, and other than reaching out into the fog, i can't possibly make anymore fatal mistakes.

death taps me on the shoulder and whispers in my ear,

"welcome to the realm of terminated existence."