Blake Glint's heart pounded violently as he stared at the figure across the street. The night was dark, the streetlamp's glow did little to dispel the shadows that seemed to move and dance in the corners of his vision. He felt the familiar tightness in his chest, his breathing becoming increasingly labored as he fought back the rising panic. Blake could feel his heart racing, the thump of each beat reverberated through his chest like a drum. He took a ragged breath and tried to steady his trembling limbs.
From across the street, he could make out the silhouette of a person standing by the bus stop, their back towards him. The figure seemed familiar, their frame tall and thin. Blake's eyes darted from the figure to the shadows that were cast by the streetlight. They seemed to dance, their jagged edges morphing in a sinister way. Each movement seemed to call out to him, beckoning him into the darkness. He shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind. He knew that he had to keep his composure, but the panic was building within him, threatening to consume him completely. Blake's eyes darted from the figure to the shadows that were cast by the streetlight. They seemed to dance, their jagged edges morphing in a sinister way. Each movement seemed to call out to him, beckoning him into the darkness. He shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind. He knew that he had to keep his composure, but the panic was building within him, threatening to consume him completely. The figure at the bus stop shifted, and Blake's grip on his wallet tightened. His eyes flickered back and forth between the shadow in the corner and the person who still seemed oddly familiar.
His mind was racing, trying to make sense of the situation, but the more he thought about it, the more the panic seemed to grip him, squeezing his chest tightly and leaving him breathless. The figure disappeared for a mere second and appeared right in front of him. The sudden appearance of the figure in front of him caught Blake off guard. He let out a gasp, his heart thumping madly against his chest. The figure was dressed in odd clothing, like that of someone from a bygone era. Their face was obscured by the shadows, but their eyes glittered in the dim streetlight.
"Who... who are you?" Blake forced the words out, his voice trembling. The figure chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "You do not recognize me?" he asked, his voice smooth and accented. Blake squinted, trying to make out the figure's features more clearly. Something about his voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. After looking a closer look at the figure's face, everything became clearer. It was... his best friend, Jake. Blake felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized who it was. "Jake... what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice betraying his surprise. Jake smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I was just passing by, thought I'd say hello." Blake's heart rate slowed as he let out a shaky laugh. "I thought... I thought you were someone else for a moment." Blake continued, "I have kind of stopped taking my medications because they make me feel bad. So I thought you were someone else or rather, something else." Jake's smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Why'd you stop taking your medication? You need it to keep you stable, you know that." "I know..." he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I just can't stand the side-effects anymore. I feel like a walking zombie all the time. I'd rather live with the hallucinations than feel nothing at all."
Jake sighed, putting a hand on Blake's shoulder. "I get it, bro. But you gotta remember what happened the last time you stopped taking your meds. You were hearing things, seeing things... it wasn't good." Blake responds, "I thought some fresh air would've been good for me tonight but I couldn't even recognize you. It sucks." Jake nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "Yeah, I can see that. But you gotta take it slow, okay? We'll get you back on your meds, and I'll personally make sure you don't miss a single dose." He patted Blake's shoulder gently. "And next time, if you wanna go out, just give me a call. I'll go with you, all right?" Blake nodded with a smile and asked, "So, where were you going before you stumbled upon a walking dead like me?" Jake shrugged. "Just the usual. Out to grab a drink or two, maybe hang out with some friends." He glanced at Blake. "You wanna tag along?"
"Nah. I don't wanna randomly start imagining you guys are demons that are trying to take my life." Jake grimaced. "Yeah, probably for the best, huh? But hey, you're still coming over for game night tomorrow, right?" "If I feel better. Melissa hasn't been letting me be alone because I keep getting worse you know? She visits me every day." Jake nodded, a frown on his face. "Yeah, she's just worried about you, man. We all are. You've been acting weird for weeks now, and it's only getting worse." "Ever since pops and ma died in the car crash, I feel like I died with them. If that makes sense somehow." Jake's expression softened. "Yeah, it does. I know you were close to them, and their death hit you hard. But you gotta keep going, bro. They would have wanted you to." Blake looked down and responded, "If they wanted me to, they would've-" Jake cut him off, his tone firm. "No. Don't go there, man. It doesn't help to think like that. They wouldn't want you to blame yourself for something you had no control over." Blake nodded and decided to ask a question. "Jake, I got a question for you, I'll just say it and go. I want you to think about it on your own until we meet again. Have you ever felt like your mind is bigger than your head?" Jake was taken aback by the sudden question, but he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I have. Sometimes, there are so many thoughts in my head, it feels like it's gonna burst. Why?" As Blake turned around and began walking the other way, he answered. "Now make it all the time and multiply it by 100."
Jake watched as Blake walked away into the night, the street lamp casting long shadows behind him. He could see the tension in his friend's shoulders, the slight tilt of his head that indicated his troubled thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, Blake's words ringing in his ears. "All the time, and multiplied by 100...?" He stood there for a moment, contemplating Blake's question. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to feel that way, to have a constant, overwhelming barrage of thoughts and sensations pounding against his brain. "All the time and multiplied by 100..." he muttered again, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine.
Blake stumbled into his apartment, feeling utterly drained. The walk home had been a blur of sensory overload, and his mind was racing with unformed thoughts and impressions. He didn't even bother to switch on the light, collapsing face-first onto his bed with a weary sigh. The cool sheets against his skin were a small comfort, but they did little to quell the chaos within. He laid there, limbs splayed, unmoving. He could feel the pounding of his heart, like a drumbeat against his ribcage. The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the occasional sound of a car passing by outside. Blake then began talking to himself. "Will you ever be quiet even for a few seconds, brain?" His mind was already responding to his own inner dialogue. Words and images flashed through his consciousness in a frenzied jumble. "Quiet?" his brain seemed to say. "Silence is unbearable. Without constant input, you'd go insane in minutes." Blake responded with a sigh, "You always talk like I am not insane." Now his brain was scoffing at him. "Insane? This is hardly insane. You're merely experiencing heightened perception. Most people operate at 5% of their mental capacity. You are simply... more aware." "Clearly, that is exactly why they operate at 5%. You never shut the fuck up and let me have some peace." His mind responded with a sigh, though it was tinged with humor. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting your inner peace? It's not like I'm trying to warn you about potential dangers or keeping you alive by processing environmental stimuli. My bad." "I am at my own house. Who the hell is going to hurt me? Melissa? She helped us a lot and you know that." His mind was beginning to sound annoyed now. "You'd be surprised. Crime statistics show that home invasions are a very real concern, and that's not even taking into account other risks, like a gas leak or a fire. I'm just looking out for you, you ungrateful bastard." "Oh, now we are speaking of statistics? Then why do you make me double check if I flushed the toilet? I have NOT ONCE forgotten to flush." His mind seemed to have an answer for everything. "That's a separate issue. It simply comes with your heightened awareness. You notice every little detail, including the fact that you always flush the toilet, so it's become a compulsion to double-check. I'm doing you a favor, really. You'd prefer hyper-awareness over being blissfully ignorant, wouldn't you?" "Because of you I always have to keep my hands busy. I keep playing with these two stupid rings just to keep up with your speed."
His mind was mocking him now. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I've given you increased hand-eye coordination and fine motor skills. How awful, how inconvenient, that you can do tasks at a faster pace than the average person. My apologies, truly." "You are obsessed with being different than others. When have I wished for such thing?" Blake got frustrated as this kept going on. But his mind seemed to take a defensive tone. "I'm not obsessed with being different. I simply recognize the benefits of heightened perception and cognitive abilities. You may not have asked for it, but it is what it is. And believe me, you should be grateful for this "obsession." If I was any more "normal," you'd be living a truly miserable existence." Blake blurted out "Fuck you!". His mind responded with a smug sense of satisfaction. "Oh, resorting to cursing now, are we? How mature and composed. I think we hit a nerve." Blake got even angrier and said, "Motherfucker, you are in control of the nerves." His mind was clearly amused now. "Oh, so now you're blaming me for how your own nerves respond? How convenient for you. But I have to say, it's rather enjoyable that I can get such an emotional reaction from you. It's not often I get to ruffle your feathers like this." Blake finally had enough and responded, "Ugh now shut up and let me sleep. Don't you dare make that fake falling from high bullshit to wake me up or replaying embarrassing memories that I CLEARLY do not want to see." His mind seemed to back off, sensing that Blake was at his limit. "Sleep, then. I'll let you have some peace. No falling sensations or embarrassing memories tonight. Dream sweet dreams." When Blake thought nothing was happening, the fake falling thing happened to wake him up suddenly. "I swear to god!"
His mind was unapologetic. "Oh, you didn't think I'd really let you off the hook, did you? I warned you, but you just had to go and provoke me. This is what you get for questioning my methods." "Fuck off!" he responded and then went right back to sleeping. He tossed and turned for a while but finally fell asleep. His mind was oddly silent for the rest of the night, allowing him to sleep undisturbed. But despite his exhaustion, Blake's sleep was far from restful, plagued by vivid and disturbing dreams.