He woke up one day and he felt it. The unraveling was complete. It took some time, his soul dripping into oblivion like flirtatious molasses. But today it felt different, something had changed. A slight alteration was making him breathe heavily. Suddenly he was frightened. He fought back tears, not another tear would be shed, not a single one. Wondering what was happening to him, he tenderly pulled himself up in his bed. Each muscle saluting the morning with pain. What had he done last night? His memories were jumbled together like a horrific highway pileup. He knows who he is. At least he thinks he does. Does he? A memory abruptly seeped to the surface. He was okay… once. Not perfect, not at all; but complete. He knew who he was once, without a shade of doubt, he knew who he was. He was satisfied once. What had happened? His eyes close. Now he wants to cry, he needs a catharsis of some sort. The well has dried. The unraveling was complete. A shiver attacks his spine. Why can't he cry? His feet hit the wooden floor looking for his slippers. A shuddered groan escapes from him unawares. Is this even his bed? The Nameless man stands up. His body fighting to adapt to a destructive internal wound. A wound that no Emergency Room can recognize. A wound that does not really exist. His feet move themselves; recognizing a path. He stands in front of the toilet seat as toxins pour out of his body. It must've been his bed; he can recognize the pattern on the bathroom's tiles. He obediently washes his hands as the distant whispers of his deceased mother order him to. Looking down at them he notices how dry and chapped they have become. The Nameless man looks in the mirror. His eyes drill into his reflection. A shell hiding a vanishing mess. He can see the change. The unraveling is complete. He sighs with venom. His gaze turns hazy as he turns on the faucet and the crystal water mesmerizes him. Nameless tries to cup some water in his grasp but rapidly the water slips through his fingers; reminiscent of his escaping sanity. What the fuck had happened to him? He turns away and walks out of the bathroom. His feet carrying him to the warm haven of the living room. The television comes to life at the switch of a button. Static attacks his ears but all he can hear are the voices in his heads. The never ending questions, the unfound answers, the whispers of the past, the doubts of the future and the confusion of the present all blaring in one note. The Nameless man has gone insane. The unraveling is complete.