Somehow, I found myself in the center of the city—a place that, at this time of night, was not meant for someone like me. Everything was dark… The streetlights seemed afraid to shine, as if the night had cast a shadow over even their resolve. Everything, living or not, had retreated to its shelter, waiting for the “bad” to pass. But what was this “bad” thing? There was no way to know. And there was no way to figure out how on earth I ended up outside at this hour. I couldn’t remember a thing.

For a brief moment, I panicked, afraid I’d forgotten everything about myself. But that moment passed quickly. I began piecing together fragments of my memory—moments from previous days, and then today… a day I’d spent in the most unremarkable, lazy way possible. I stayed home all day, daydreaming about a girl, tidying up my workspace around my computer, lying on the couch… You know what I mean, right? Nothing at all that would make the world around me take notice.

And yet, here I was, suddenly sprawled out on a bench in a small, lifeless park. Not a single sign of life anywhere nearby—not even bugs.

I tried to think rationally.
“Could I have done something at home to make me forget six hours of my day and pass out on a bench somewhere?” No.
“Was I hit over the head by a thief? Ridiculous. Why would they go to the trouble of dragging me somewhere when they could just rob my apartment? Plus, all my neighbors are gossipy and constantly around. That’s unlikely.”
“Maybe someone invited me out for a beer?” Doubtful. Even if that were the case, they’d have needed a pretty convincing reason to get me out of my neighborhood.

The last thing I remembered was… lying in bed. Or was that yesterday? Damn it! I don’t remember.

Okay, enough. Clearly, I’m not going to figure this out sitting here. Time to move. But why is no one outside? It’s barely 9 PM. There are usually bars and cafes full of people at this hour. But there was no one. And the doors were locked.

Think, think… my phone! Oh, thank God, I have it on me. Wait… this is really strange. I can’t make any calls. Fine. It seems like everything is against me tonight. Let’s see where this leads.

I started walking along the city’s main streets. The smaller, darker ones weren’t an option—not now. Even the streetlights seemed scared of the world tonight. And me? I was just trying to hold it together.
“You’ve got this,” I told myself. “Don’t act like a coward!”

“Alright, alright, just don’t talk nonsense,” I muttered back to myself, almost scolding. Was it necessary to remind myself how terrifying everything was while I was trying to distract myself? A little discipline wouldn’t hurt. Who was I kidding? My mind couldn’t process what was happening. There wasn’t a single lit window in sight, no one moving, not even a stray dog or cat. The wind was still, and the only sound was the echo of my footsteps on the boulevard.

I walked as fast as I could without breaking into a run. Panic filled every corner of my body. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and run until I couldn’t breathe. For a split second, I felt the urge take over, but I regained control and forced myself to keep walking briskly.

After about 20 minutes, I finally realized I hadn’t even thought to light a cigarette. I steeled myself enough to sit on a large plaza illuminated by dim but slightly comforting lights. The first drag of a cigarette—it’s amazing how, in certain moments, it can feel like the most soothing thing in the world. For two minutes, I forgot about everything, regaining a semblance of strength for whatever lay ahead.

But this moment of peace didn’t last long. It felt like I was trapped in a parallel world—one that mirrored our own but was devoid of life. Could I be dreaming? I looked around several times, as if expecting to see something different from before.

No, this wasn’t a dream—or at least, I didn’t think so. In all my dreams, I’d never felt exhaustion, the taste of a cigarette, or the sensation of my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest. No. Or… so I thought.

The longer I stayed, the more I doubted everything around me—most of all, my own thoughts. I wanted to stay in this plaza, to wait until it all ended. But the panic consuming me wouldn’t let me. It weakened my legs and clouded my mind.

“Get a grip!” that voice inside me snapped.
“Stand up and keep walking, find the answers you’re looking for.”

But where was I supposed to go to find those answers? I didn’t know why I expected myself to have any. Anger swept over me—raw, uncontrollable anger that forced me to my feet and made me scream.

I kept walking… I could still hear my own screams, though now they were muffled and unclear. I couldn’t even remember the words I’d shouted. I didn’t know why I’d been so angry, or what that anger had unleashed from within me. Yet, somehow, I felt a little better. Though, even saying that feels like an overstatement.

At that moment, I felt hollow. Emotionless. The fear had subsided, but what replaced it was an emptiness—a kind of indifference. I no longer cared that I was trapped in this nightmare with no way out. But I knew that soon, perhaps in just a few minutes, a wave of sadness and despair would wash over me. I could feel it coming because the thoughts running through my mind had nowhere else to lead.

I was alone. And it felt like it would be that way for a long time. No familiar faces, no friends, no one to share a single word with. No one to experience that little thrill you feel when you fall for someone. No laughter over old stories with close friends. I longed to be with them again, laughing about this wretched experience, writing it off as some terrible joke. But no… I walked and wondered how I would endure this, how I could survive speaking only to myself.

“No chance,” I muttered aloud. “I’ll never survive listening to your constant nonsense.”

I smiled faintly at my own remark. At least I could still find something to laugh about. But for how long…

---

And just like that, I was back at home. Sitting, lost in thought, drowning in unreasonable fears and lingering depression. I was thinking about how, once again, I was alone. How, in moments of hardship, there was no shoulder to lean on, no one to make me feel safe or loved. It was a truly awful feeling, but I reminded myself that the world doesn’t revolve around me.

Friendship is a gift—a precious one that needs to be nurtured and valued. You have to show people you care about them. But sometimes, there comes a moment when you feel completely rejected. It’s not that others have abandoned you; they’re dealing with their own struggles, their own pain. They have no energy to carry your burdens on top of theirs.

It happens.

But there I was, blind to these facts, lying in anguish, tormented by the thought that my friends had forsaken me. Memories—both painful and beautiful—flooded my mind, and for the first time in a long while, I wanted to cry.

---

At that moment, I woke up.

Tears and sweat streamed down my face. Every muscle in my body was tense, bracing as if expecting a crashing wave. It took me a moment to realize where I was.

I began my familiar routine of retracing my steps, trying to piece together what had just happened. The last thing I remembered was wandering the city alone, with no signs of life—no people, no friends, no one. I’d been pacing the streets, desperately trying to understand why this was happening to me. What would happen if I stayed like that forever? Alone in the ghost town… or ghost planet?

Would there even be a point to living? Trying to understand the incomprehensible?

But here I was, back in my room. My safe haven. My cozy bed, my computer, the dirty coffee cup on the desk—everything was just as I’d left it. Yet, the thoughts that exploded in my mind during the dream haunted me still. I sat on the floor, clutching my head, screaming incoherently.

“Why!? WHY!?”

It felt like lightning had struck me as the memories of the dream flooded back.

Was it really all just a dream? And if it was, how could I be sure I wasn’t still dreaming?

“You can’t know that,” said a voice—a voice unfamiliar to me, not even part of my subconscious.

“W-who’s there?”

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand who I am.”

I froze. I scanned the room—everything was normal. There was no one under the table, no one hiding behind the chair. I even checked the wardrobe, half-jokingly.

“Did you cause all of this?” I asked cautiously.

“Cause it? Think of it as a free lesson.”

“A free lesson!?” I scoffed. “A lesson in what? Driving someone insane?”

“Ah, humans and your shallow thinking,” the voice replied with an amused tone. “Would you like me to help you figure it out? And please stop trying to find me. I won’t appear—let’s just have a little chat, based on trust.”

I paled. “Trust? Are you insane? Actually, no—I’m the insane one here.”

“Alright, what do you want to talk about?” I asked reluctantly.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” the voice said.

“I’m thinking about when this nightmare will end and everything will go back to normal.”

The voice let out a sinister laugh.
“A nightmare? No, I promise you—I won’t give you nightmares anymore.”

Then, silence.

But I could feel it—its presence. Like someone was watching me, scrutinizing every move, every thought.

“Think about the things you’ve experienced in the last twelve hours,” the voice finally spoke again. “You’ve had plenty of time to reflect. Don’t tell me you haven’t.”

I was paralyzed from head to toe. Trembling, I began to understand what the voice meant.

“Ah, finally you’re starting to get it,” it said, almost proud.

“Now, let’s unravel what’s happened to you—slowly, calmly. Let’s figure it out together.”

“So, you want to tell me that the entire world has conspired to ignore you, to hate you, and to humiliate you? Is that what you’re saying?” the voice asked.

“No! That sounds absurd. But… somehow, that’s how it feels,” I replied hesitantly.

“Then tell me again—what makes you think the people who care about you don’t want anything to do with you?”

In that moment, I felt utterly foolish. As I replayed my tragic thoughts aloud, I started to realize that I was the one at fault for all of it.

“Exactly. You’re to blame,” the voice said firmly.

“Alright, can you stop eavesdropping on my thoughts? People need some personal space, you know,” I snapped.

I could sense the voice smiling.

“When I sent you to that lonely place, even then, you weren’t truly alone. Why? Because you’ve connected with these people. You’ve shared experiences—good and bad moments. Subconsciously, they were still with you, guiding you, helping you navigate that desperate situation I placed you in. Do you understand now? The universe doesn’t revolve around one person. Not around you, not around me, not around anyone or anything else.”

The words hit me hard.

“Don’t argue with the universe,” the voice continued. “Because if you do, it might send you to a place far worse than the one I sent you to—a place from which you won’t return to your reality.”

I hesitated but finally asked, “Why? Why are you helping me? How do you even know about our human connections—love, friendship, pain, depression?”

I could feel the voice beaming now, almost laughing softly.

“I told you—you wouldn’t understand even if I explained it. And frankly, I don’t want to clutter your mind with unnecessary information.”

At this, I burst out laughing.

“Unnecessary information? Seriously? My head is already so overloaded with everything you’ve dumped on me, it’ll take me months, maybe years, to process it all!”

“True,” the voice replied calmly. “But I think you’ve grasped the essence of my lesson. What I did was a necessary evil—to shake you up, to make you start looking at the world through a clearer lens. Stop seeing every living being as an enemy and begin using your potential in the right direction.”

I lowered my head in quiet embarrassment. Words eluded me, but I knew the voice was smiling again, satisfied with its work.

“That’s all from me,” it said. “We won’t meet again—or, rather, you won’t see me again. But if you reflect on these lessons, you’ll feel as though I’m still here. I truly hope you remember what I’ve taught you. Goodbye, my friend.”

Before I could reply, the voice was gone. I tried to speak—to say anything—but no words came out. I was entirely consumed by thought, replaying the strange conversation over and over.

---

At that moment, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my best friend. She thanked me for a surprise I’d left for her, something she’d only just discovered.

I smiled. Emotions swirled through me—joy, a touch of sadness, love—and yet, I couldn’t shake the heavy thoughts lingering in my mind.

“God,” I thought to myself, “what was I even thinking? There are so many worse people than me out there. Why do I let myself feel so undeserving, so small…”