There is darkness in the soul. It eats away at all good and all humanity. For me, no less than anyone else, this is true. For me, no less than anyone else, life is a bitter and frustrating thing. For me, no less than anyone else, the world drives me crazy.

And how I would love to be crazy! I would love to be totally insane and completely certifiable, just like all those others I have seen. I would live in my own world, totally secure and insulated in it. No matter where I would go, I would be completely absorbed and safe and happy.

All the smells of the world, all the colours, all the feelings, all the joys, all the sorrows, and every other experience that we are heir to would be felt through my swiss-cheese mind. All of these things would be filtered through my warped perspective. All of these things would be tinted and altered and always exactly the way I wanted them.

Every blonde haired girl would be a brunette, and every brunette would be a cute girl with slightly bowed legs, and every cute girl with slightly bowed legs would be her. Everything would be as it was meant to be; everything would be perfect. I would have my peace and we would live together eternally, eternally together, in the full flush of youth.

When I look at you I shudder,

the immenseness of the universe lay before me,

and you are the universe to me,

your eyes speak to my heart,

words I do not hear, but words that I feel,

the way the earth feels the distant thunder of an approaching storm;

the way the grass feels the soft whispers of a summer wind;

the way the tree feels the bird nestled in its branches;

the way the tide feels the moon;

the way the cat feels the warm sun on its outstretched body;

the way the shore feels the embrace of the waves on its beaches;

the way the mountain feels the river running down its gentle slopes;

the way the infant feels its mother;

your eyes speak to my heart.

The bitter cold of February gave way to the damp cold of March. My mind was filled with stirrings of things I can no longer recall. I was agitated, unfocused, and my mind felt shrouded in fog.

One evening, when my mother had gone to sleep, I quietly made my way out of the apartment. The night sky was thick with black and full of stars. I walked down the street to see Jen's old dealer, and everywhere about me the fullness of nature stared at me. The wonders of the world are surprising, even on a lonely March night, yet I didn't appreciate it at the time.

I hopped onto the first-floor balcony and knocked quietly on the window. After a few seconds it slid open.

"Yeah?" the dealer asked.

"Um, can I have a gun?"

"What makes you think I got that kind of stuff?"

"I don't know, you were always good to Jen, so I thought..."

"You were tight with her, eh? Look, I don't do this kind of thing normally, but I'll help you out. How much you got?"

"A hundred dollars."

"Hold on," he said, disappearing from view.

He soon returned and put his hand out. I gave him my money. He handed me a small package wrapped in a plastic bag. I was going to say thank you, but he quickly shut the window.

I went straight home. I didn't stop to listen to the trees. I didn't stop to look at the world, slowly turning, ancient and almost ageless, gracefully moving through time unhurriedly and delicately. Mom was out.

The next day, I went to school. I went to the music building. I stood in the lobby, in the middle of that shoe-box shaped storehouse for students. The meaningless paintings still hung on the walls, speaking to me with hostile, rambling tones. The twin skylight domes – those two breasts pointing eternally upward – still adorned this horrible place.

Students milled about, lazily sitting on the old green upholstered benches, lounging for who knows how long, thinking about God knows how little. It occurred to me that things never changed, that no matter what I did, or thought, or felt, things would always be the same. The boys would still be braggarts; the girls would still be teasing endlessly. But I knew I must do something, something to force the hand of God, something to create a new world, a new role for all of us.

I walked quietly down to my locker. I went unnoticed by everyone. I was as inconspicuous as a seed in the wind. I placed the package in the locker and set it down delicately, as if it were a flower or an infant child. There it lay: silent, strong, and powerful. There it lay in the locker, ready to test the universe. Lunch time was approaching and the lobby would be crowded. I was ready. I closed the locker door. I steeled myself for what I must do.

I went up to the third floor, where I could stare down at the lobby through one of the skylight breasts. Below me, tiny girls and boys walked around aimlessly. A string group was entertaining them with some Brahms. I plotted out my attack. I planned how the elevator doors would open to reveal me, and how I would walk out into the middle of the lobby like a gunslinger at high noon. I would have my head held high and my weapon at the ready. I would make them cower at my might. I would teach them a lesson to be remembered for all time.

The student chamber ensemble had just finished performing for the lunch crowd. The players were packing their instruments away. I decided that now I would do my job, do what I had to do for our joint benefit, for all of us.

The elevator doors opened ominously and I walked out into the middle of the lobby. All around me were people who ignored me. Nobody noticed.

I shouted out as loud as I could, and all eyes turned toward me as I screamed nonsense at their massed faces. I pulled it out. They were like cows at a rending plant, waiting to be slaughtered.

They all stared at me, stared at what I held in my hands. They were all in a panic, unsure if they should run and risk triggering my wrath. Some were in awe at its power and were staring with mouths wide open.

I pumped its action mechanism and it loaded. I began shooting randomly and they all started running. Those bulbous jocks turned away, cowering in fear at my strength and power. Those stupid girls ran, desperately looking for cover, looking to shield themselves from my hard tool of deliverance.

Even as I shot at them, a few girls still stared, motionless, as if mesmerized. Looking at their faces, I thought to myself, are women not better used for sex than for cannon fodder? But I shot at them still.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a girl with her head down, crying. She had beautiful dark hair, soft gentle breasts, and slightly bowed legs. But as I turned she vanished. I was left holding my weapon and I was confused and anguished. Then I looked around me and I saw all the shocked students. I saw the mess that I had caused.

I raised my arms up and cried out with morbid triumph, "I've done it!"

"Look at your beautiful creatures now!" I screamed to the heavens. I could feel my heart pumping in my head.

"Come and take care of them!" I yelled to the stars.

I stopped, waiting for an answer, but heard none.

"Where are you?" I asked, pointing my fingers up to the sky.

I paused for a second, waiting for a response, but I heard nothing except for some muted laughter. I became desperate and scared.

"Where are you?" I asked again. I heard nothing. My legs felt heavy. I could no longer stand. I slumped down to the ground and fell onto my back. I was staring up at the skylight breasts.

"Where are you?" I asked again. "Where are you?"

I put my hands over my face. Laughter grew all around me. My mind was scrawled with panicked thoughts: Why are they laughing? Oh no.... I left the gun in my locker. Then what did I shoot everyone with? Oh, not with... Oh... Well this is embarrassing....

I sat alone on the floor in a white room. I was wearing white clothes. There was no sound to hear but white noise and my own intermittent breath. This is what I saw with my eyes open, but with my eyes closed I could see the universe swirl about me in all its Technicolor glory. With my eyes closed I could see past the walls of that room, though I could see nothing in particular but the unlimited expanse of eternity. I kept my eyes open as much as possible, except when I was too tired, and then I would unwillingly fall into the arms of the cosmos.

As I slept in the embrace of the universe, the pieces of my humanity fell back together like building blocks. My humility, my grace, my compassion, these all dropped back in to place. My logic, my reason, my soul, these all returned to me over time. Mom visited often; this helped greatly.

My heart came back to life slowly, though it is a shadow of its former self. And so happiness escapes me still. How can I be happy, knowing what is coming? How can I be happy, seeing all that the world has to offer, and not wanting any of it for fear of what must inevitably occur? If we are to become dust upon the wind, then why bother at all? See, happiness escapes me.

This endless cycle of alternating between visions of the universe and visions of the white room went on for a few weeks. I went through endless rounds of doctors, nurses, and orderlies. It all became a mindless blur. But one day everything became clear, and instead of a swarthy mud, the world became stippled to the finest detail.

"This is just a mild sedative," some doctor said as he handed me a pill and a cup of water. "It'll help you relax."

I put the pill in my mouth and swallowed it down reluctantly. The doctor said he'd be back to check on me.

I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. But instead of relaxing blackness behind my shut eyes, images began to appear. Faces. No. One face. Jen.

Oh! There she is. There you are again! So beautiful. Beautiful!

I bolted upright and I opened my eyes. And there in front of my wide eyes I saw her still. Jen!

You came back to me!

She stood a few feet from me, tranquil, smiling, and lovely. Her long dark hair fell across her chest. Her hands reached out to me.

"Jen!" I screamed. I began to cry and shake like a baby.

She came over to me, ran to me on her small soft feet, on her slightly bowed legs, and held me in her arms.

"Please don't cry," she said to me, whispering in my ear. "Don't cry."

"What's happening to me?" I asked. I felt frightened and helpless.

"Don't cry," she said softly. She brushed her nose through my hair. "I'm here."

"Stay with me," I pleaded.

"I've always been with you. I was at the park, watching over you. I talked to you but you thought I was the wind. I was with you at the school but you didn't recognize me."

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it as hard as I could.

"Don't leave."

"I never left you," Jen said, smiling at me with her beautiful dark liquid eyes. "I'll never leave you."

I lay down and she put my head on her lap. She stroked my head gently. I could smell her. It was a soft and sweet smell. I fell asleep.

Now something incredible has happened. My cousin, whose name is Bradbury, not Hemingway, has come back for me. He found out about what happened from my mom, and when he heard about it he left home and came straight here. Now the three of us are living together in a basement apartment in an old house in the middle-class Annex area.

Bradbury says that he wanted us to move to the Annex, to escape from all the trouble in our old neighbourhood, and to give my brain and heart a chance to heal. I think that it was an escape for Bradbury too. I still don't know everything that he has gone through, but maybe one day he will tell me.

We have a back yard now. I think I am saved.

I was thinking recently about Jen, and how she is gone. I was also thinking about all the people who have someone to love, and yet who leave and go looking for a greater love. And as I wondered about this, I considered that maybe there is no greater love, no greener pasture to graze. Maybe all men, and all women, are equally beautiful and disgusting; noble and ignoble; moral and wicked. I wonder if all people have all of these qualities in like amounts and that it is only the outside of each person that is different.

Now I know that she will never return to me. But for all my pain, I wonder how many other people, all of them beautiful and disgusting; noble and ignoble; moral and wicked, have been lost to the world? How many, no greater and no lesser than Jen, have been here and now are gone? So I think I can not feel so bad – at least through my sorrow I can keep company with all those who have lost as well.