What?

 Where? 

What the fuck is going on??!! 

My mind felt foggy, woozy, like an incomplete puzzle, and I could barely pick up one piece. 

It's disorienting and fucked up.

I kept trying to open my eyes, but all I saw was an ocean of black, or it felt as if my eyes were drowning in an ocean of black. I don't even know if I have eyes to begin with. All I knew was my name, Ray, which isn't much considering how long I've been in here, not that I had any indication of how much time had passed. For all I knew, my time spent here could have been one second or one year. 

But then something changed. Light passed my "eyes" out of nowhere, blinding me, disorienting my "eyesight"." Then I saw? A baby which was playing around with its parents ... I think that baby is supposed to be me, but it doesn't feel right. The baby doesn't feel familiar to me. I knew what I looked like as a baby, or at least I feel like I knew ... and this doesn't feel like me. Before I knew it, the baby grew up and now looks like a toddler. As time continues, it feels as if foreign memories are being transplanted into my mind, trying to replace my own, as if it's trying to take something from me. I feel as if I should feel more concerned about it, but the invasion of memories is more annoying than anything else, like a minor headache. 

These memories are obviously the toddler's, who has now grown into a semi -young adult at the tender age of 12. As the child grows, I would experience whatever the child experienced, whether it's sight, smell, touch, and hearing, while gaining his memories, which felt more like watching a very realistic movie. From what I've gathered in this child's reality, the gender roles are reversed, men act like women, and women act like men. The kid was born into a nice and loving, well-off family. His father died, though, after his 14th year, which was kind of sad, I guess, but unlike me, his father's death didn't result in a good impact on him emotionally speaking (obviously). Then his mother remarried, and his anger was transmitted towards his new family, which I could understand and even subside if his anger wasn't aimed at his new little sister, which infuriated me. 

I didn't have a little sister, or at least I think I didn't, so obviously I would love to have one. Little sisters were, in my view, cute, cuddly, and adorable teddy bears that were your responsibility to protect. To do otherwise would be an offense to the entire universe, to watch him treat her terribly was torture, but luckily, this torturous existence came to an end in the kid's 17th year when the child got into a car accident while crossing the street and not paying attention to the car headed right for him. 

After which, everything just stopped, and I'm back in the black void with the 17 -year -old kid in front of me, or maybe I've always been here, and my mind was the one traveling, or my perception was altered. Anyway, back to the present. The boy in front of me, wearing a hospital gown, was currently curled into a ball and crying. I would've thought he was a girl considering how feminine he looks if I didn't experience being him. I don't know why he's crying though, well, to be fair, I don't know anything right now except my original memories that I now have and know are mine, so that's nice but irrelevant all things considered. 

But at least I also now know now that he's me, and I'm him. 

After gaining all those memories, an instinctive feeling bore into me, making me know that I'm currently talking to another version of myself but from his reality. Enough weird shit has been going on where I won't question how or whys currently, so I'll just roll with it. 

I crouched low to his level, or at least I envisioned myself crouching to his level, which, by the way, is a weird and new sensation that I won't question. I lifted up his face with my "hand" and looked him in the eye, and by how his pupils turned into pin pricks, I could tell he could see me despite me not being able to see myself. By my touch, he froze, and his hands vibrated, most likely due to fear. By my guess, he probably experienced the same thing I did, but I doubt it was as comfortable as my own. I'm also willing to bet that he also wasn't ready for the lifestyle that I lived; my memories aren't the most pleasant, I admit. He lived a privileged lifestyle, which was a strong contrast to my own, that was a dog-eat-dog world. Unlike him, I didn't have the privilege of being treated nicely by the world thanks to my gender. That doesn't even consider the things I had to do to survive in it, and he had no choice but to experience it. To a mind like his, emotionally and mentally speaking, it must've been trauma-inducing, if nothing else. I've always been interested in psychology. But I degress. 

This reality of me is freaking cute, by the way, unlike my previous handsome self, he looks like a trap with his androgynous face with, deep black hair, and watery innocent black shining eyes. 

Trying to get a good introduction, "Sup," I greet him with a calm and cheerful voice.

"Y-you're... m-me?" He answered me with a small stutter. 

"Yep." 

"U-You.... did those.... things? " "

"Yep." 

"You're.... dangerous?" Probably surprised by my straight forward answers, his stutter started to subside. 

"Anyone's dangerous given the right circumstances, anyone can be bad if forced into the right, or should I say bad, situation. I'm just used to taking advantage of my bad situations and circumstances." After noticing his eyes grow wider with fear, I decided to calm him down a bit. "Don't worry, I won't harm you because you're me... so yeah... it would be pretty stupid of me if I did." As I spoke, instinctively, I knew that soon he'll disappear. "You don't have to worry. It's okay, I'm here, you can let go. I'll take care of everything. ....You can rest now." 

During the conversation, I somehow knew that he'll soon die, and I'm taking his place. As such, I decided to help him calm down to pass on. There's no need to be rude or hasty to another version of my dying self. I mean, he was a spoiled prick, but he's still a kid. 

He shut his eyes for a few moments more than necessary, then looked towards me with new eyes. Probably feeling the same thing I was and knowing his time was running out, he gave me his last words. 

I thought his last words would be bittersweet, about himself or loved ones, but instead, he looked at me with a smile. 

"Thank you."

. 

. 

. 

. 

It took my mind a while to process and understand. It was so sincere and heartfelt; his words felt foreign, as if a lie to my hears. It was not the first time someone told me those words, but definitely the first that felt so real, especially towards me. The first time genuine gratitude was given towards me, as if my actions changed anything. Yet all I gave were my half-felt words that changed nothing. 

By the time I understood, he was already gone. And left me to wonder.... why? 

Then I awoke...