[ WP ] You awake one morning and you can hear everyone 's thoughts completely unedited .

My eyes open to harsh sunlight filtering through tattered drapes. *I should fix those*, I think, the prospect of sleeping past sunrise flirting with my still-waking mind. The morning begins as most mornings do, my bare feet leading my swaying body toward the bathroom. Through squinted lids, I catch glimpse of an excuse for a human being in the mirror. Short, prickly hairs struggle to lay claim to my facial territories, some sections more populated than others. At 23, I look like a high-schooler going through puberty. A very tired, overweight high-schooler. 
 
 My numb hands feel helplessly for a lid they know to be up ( why would a bachelor leave the lid down? I have no one to impress ) before making their way to my boxers, fumbling for a prick shriveled from sleeping with my legs shut. The bubbling sound is almost therapeutic, and I allow myself to nap here, hand against wall, manhood in other hand, life in gutter. 
 
 The corn flakes are loud as I pour them into the bowl, the *glug glug glug* of the milk loud as I pour it over the corn flakes, the *god damn it* a harsh whisper upon the discovery of no clean spoons. 
 
 It begins as I shovel the first forkful of flakes into my mouth. A soft droning at first, similar to when I tried freon with some goth kids during freshman year. ``... loser. Just evict him already. He makes you look bad.'' 
 The whining of my neighbor's wife is barely audible. I press my ear to the wall at my back, knowing my cereal has only a few precious minutes before it turns to oatmeal in my bowl. 
 
 `` Your fat ass and loose cunt make me worse,'' I hear my landlord say. *God damn. He really told h -- * `` Yes my dear... of course. Of course. I will talk to him tomorrow.'' 
 
 *Wait, what the fuck? * 
 
 `` Abou outfu fuckifucking time ime.'' 
 
 Confusion is setting in. Creeping over my skull like a scurry of roaches looking for a place to settle. I hear the landlord say a few more things about his wife, obviously below her hearing range or I imagine I'd have heard the sounds of castration by now, whatever they might be. 
 
 More droning. It gets louder, becomes white noise in my head. Then, the girl from four rooms down starts talking to someone, but why can I hear her from here? 
 
 *Why does it sound like I'm hearing some inner monologue? * 
 
 It strikes. This crazy idea that maybe, just *maybe*, I've got fantastic powers. I can read minds. I can hear minds. I can bend people to my will. I can turn my life around, give people what they want, get what I want... 
 
 It strikes. This time, the droning. I lose the girl from down the hall as another voice is added to the mix in my head. More droning, more voices. *I ca n't shut this off. I'm hearing everyone at once. * 
 
 If this power has a radius, it's quickly spreading. I can barely hear myself over the cacophony of voices from my apartment complex, in addition to voices I can not recognize. 
 
 *I need help. I need to go to the hospital. * 
 
 Head pounding, I throw on sweatpants and sandals and stagger toward the door. The voices get louder, or maybe there are more voices. I do n't fucking know anymore. 
 
 1996 was a good year. The year I got my first Pokémon game. A great year, unless you're driving a car that was made in it. My Dodge coughs and sputters, resenting me for the simple fact that I rely on it for transportation. I try to remember how to get to the hospital. Left here? Right there? Straight? 
 
 I can feel my eyes trying to crawl out of their sockets. Driving this way was a bad idea. It's like being in a stadium, or having a stadium in you. I ca n't think. 
 
 *How long have I been driving? * 
 
 
 *It's 11am. It's 11:01am. This is the road. That smell is the orange plant, making orange juice. The road is black. * 
 
 My own thoughts have been forced out of my head by the relentless thoughts of others. It is 11:20am. This is a bridge. 
 
 This is a bridge. 
 
 This... 
 
 I feel the truck pull toward the right. Toward open water. An open grave. An inviting grave. I could stop it. 
 
 But... 
 
 The silence is so enticing. 
 
 Tomorrow, I think I'll sleep past sunrise. 

