I awoke with a headache and no memory of anything at all. I lived deep inside of a pit. While in there, I was left with nothing but myself and endless time. Over time, my thoughts and emotions became as physical as my body and the pit itself. Myhatered became a set of tools. My suffering became my fuel. And my sadness became my home. I clawed at the walls of the pit for days, weeks, years. When I finally clawed my way out of the pit, I found myself in a world I did not recognize.

I first found myself in a field that seemed endless in all directions, my only landmark being the deep, dark pit I crawled out of. Without any underlying logical reason, I picked a direction and began walking. I walked for a long time. With every step I became more tired, my legs grew heavier, and so did my eyelids. After what felt like days of walking, I came upon a strange sight. Buildings of concrete, steel and glass stretching upt to the sky, arranged in perfect rows. The strangest detail I noticed about them was not that they were seemingly infinite in height or completely empty on the inside when I looked through the windows. The strangest thing was that none of them had an entrance.

The deeper I traveled into this strange land, the more I started to yearn for the comfort and familiarity of the pit. I grew tired and weary. There, at least I understood. There, I had a goal. Out here, I was in a place I did not understand, wondering aimlessly. I felt compelled to return to the comforting purpose of futility. But I continued. Driven by either some unseen purpose or a deep seated hatred of myself. Each step was torture, my feet were blistered and bleeding, but I pushed on.

Traveling even further into this land of confusion, I came upon an orb. It glowed with radiance that was both alluring and terrifying. It spoke no words to me, yet I understood what it wanted to say. It promised wisdom, understanding, a purpose, all those things I thought I was seeking. Foolishly, I agreed, and in return the orb granted only pain.

I traveled on, no longer pushed forward by a purpose, but strung along behind a fleeting hope. A hope that my journey had a goal. But the deeper I ventured, the more apparent it got that there was no goal at the end of this journey. No carrot at the end of this stick. So I started digging a pit. It was deep and dark, and when I was sure that no light from the surface could reach me, I began bashing my head against the wall.