Letters from the Lost Man, Part 2

The dark accentuates loneliness. It accentuates fear and refines sadness. The encompassing, oppressive dark, perfect only in its emptiness. It's enough to drive a man insane.
Time has passed. Hours, days, weeks...who knows? I sure don't. I haven't seen any light or heard any voices. In fact, now I'm not even convinced I heard them in the first place. So, now I'm just sitting here, holding my arms.
But, y'know...I'm not really sure I'm holding my arms. I think I'm holding the memory of my arms. It seems strange to me how the memory of something seems so solid here in the nothingness. I think the dark is so complete that even the concept of something feels corporeal.
No, that isn't it at all. I know exactly what it is. I'm not really in the dark. I'm not really standing in the middle of a huge nothingness. What's really happening is that I'm trapped in my own mind. It's the only thing that makes sense. I was in some horrible accident, and this is what it's like to be in a coma.
But why is it so empty in here? Where are my memories? Where are my dreams? If I'm aware of myself, shouldn't I be aware of these things? Unless I received some kind of massive head trauma...then maybe I have amnesia. Or maybe worse. Maybe I'm a vegetable...trapped in my empty mind...my brain wiped clean by a huge jolt. Great. I'm a human Etch-a-Sketch.
It still doesn't make sense, though. How can I be a vegetable while being stuck in my head rationalizing about being a vegetable? I just wish I could peek outside and get a little glimpse of what's going on.
Better yet, I wish I could be like all those people who almost die then go on to write a book and go on talk shows. "Then I saw this light. It was swirling and flashing and was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. It felt like home." A trigger release of brain chemicals from a body in extreme duress causes hallucinations that make people think they're going to heaven. People using illusions to support their delusions...how fitting. Notice how many people write books about the other place...the bad place...or how many of them write about experiences like this. I think this is worse. At least in hell I would know if I was dead.

"Are you gonna order somethin'? 'Cause if you ain't, you better move along."

"What the..?"

Whoa! Did I just say that? Who the hell is this guy? He looks like something out of a bad western. How did I get in this bar? Where did these clothes come from? Why is everyone eyeing me like I'm about to be shot? What the hell is going on!

...