If not death …

If not death …

She feels overexposed and has turned completely into pure light. Without anyone or anything to bounce off of, who will see her, or worse, how will she go on being, living, embodying herself? “No one wants to feel invisible,” therapist after therapist will explain. If that were the case, then she would not want to be invisible either. But here she is, sitting in some contrived office posing as a home in order to make the crazies feel warm, light, soft … okay. Like everything’s going to just be alright if the environment surrounding the mind left slightly ajar feels at home, at ease. Since she decided that therapy, and by virtue, therapists were a waste of time, she quit, mid-session, one fall afternoon to pursue a strategy of her own making.

I know what I’ll do! she shouted within her own mind. I’ll expose myself to everyone, all at once, and then, that will leave no one left for me to have not been exposed to. The plan unfolded itself perfectly within her mind, and she even admitted that there were a few flaws, if not serious problems; the first being, how does one even expose themselves to a large audience, and her lack of fame makes a television appearance seemingly impossible, and that still leaves the entirety of the world simultaneously tuning in, an improbability given time differences, etc.?

She could do something crazy, since crazy is how she’s already been defined, but that just feels lazy. Perhaps, something shocking then. Murder pops into her mind … mass murder. But she doesn’t want to end her own life too or be sentenced to live out her remaining years in prison. It’ll have to be something, then, she decides. But what?