A spider scuttled across my foot, a rat crawled across my chest. There were more than one on me at any given time, all slowly tearing away at me. I was bound to the dust, as though by ropes, though none held me. I was forever connected with this place, my own little piece of hell.
I tugged at my imaginary ropes, as I tossed dust all over myself. I tugged and pulled at my constraints, vied with my bindings, forever in turmoil, forever in conflict. But there was no hope, for nothing was my enemy. Emptiness was my foe. Nobody opposed me, and naught was my oppressor to be found.
As I lay there, the boy in the dust, slowly rusting and rotting away, I knew that there was no escape. For my enemy, foe, and oppressor was but one. The one who opposed me, the one who despised me, and whom I despised, was a single entity. That enemy, was myself.
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