Thirstiness

That's not sad story. Really.

But, well, read and tell me what you think :)

Thirstiness

He opened his eyes. Sun blinded him, he felt heat burning his back, feet, face... As if he dived in boiling water. But it was sun, just sun. And the sand. He opened his eyes, but he weren't able to do anything else. He couldn't feel his body. He didn't know who he is or where he is or why he is at all. And opening eyes is so natural after waking up.

He couldn't see his arms, legs... he didn't know how old he is. He was human, that's sure, but what is human? He was human and nothing more.

After heat he felt thirtiness. 

Thirstiness must be natural too. Where you exist, only exist, on the sand under the sun, you must feel thirstiness. Thinking about thirstiness or rather about not being thirsty he remembered water. he didn't know what water is, but he understood that it's able to douse the sun and the heat inside in. And it means that it must be... wet.

How did he know what it means? He was, he was wet. Wet human burned by heat inside and outside, with opened eyes.

After thirstiness he felt pain.

It came unawares, suddenly. His body burned again, different way. He felt that he should shout, writhe and call for help. But he was too tired. Furthermore he wanted to cognize this body, cognize who he is. So he waited.

Time... He knew time, he remembered time. Time was taking. It was taking saturation and it was giving thirstiness. So was it taking heat? Was it giving cold? Inside, outside? Was it giving relief in pain? Could time give... freedom?

He wasn't free. He saw only the sun, and he wouldn't be able to see anything else if he wanted to. So he wasn't free. 

Truly he was never free.

After pain he felt blood.

He didn't know it exist, he would call it different if he knew. But he felt it. He felt it under his eyes, inside and outside simultaneously. He felt that it's warm and sweet.

Warm. Sweet. Warm means colder than heat, but hotter than cold. Sweet is different than bitter. He felt bitterness. He felt sand in his mouth... in the inside he felt blood in. Blood was wet too, but it didn't douse the thirstiness.

He choked. It's so natural when your mouth is full of sand and blood. And then he felt pain again.

Thirstiness - he felt it all the time. Truly everybody is enslaved. By thirstiness. He didn't know who everybody is. Maybe it's sun, maybe it's sun and blood and water... Or maybe there's no everyone, maybe he's alone? Or maybe everybody is, and maybe everybody is alone, maybe everybody looks at the sun and feels blood, pain and has mouth full of blood and sand and thirsts?

Then he felt smell.

The smell was salt. Different than sand and blood. You couldn't feel it by your mouth. He didn't know what he was feeling it by, but he did.

Then he waited, he waited again for something new. Something that can be known, defined, described... something that will last. Like pain, thirstiness, blood, water, sand and smell. Like the sun. Like the heat. He felt only time. It took long time before something new appeared.

 He expected this. He remembered. One tiny memory. Two colours. Blue above, sky. And green beneath, grass. He missed them. They must heve been somewhere there, beyond the sun, beyond the sand, but must have been so far away, that he, human, will never reach them. Reach...

So there's space. That's comforting that there exists something else but what he knew. It means, that if there's another human, he sees and feels different things. And maybe there's another human that sees something different and maybe he tells him what he sees?

Tells. Can he tell something? How to check it? He has to try.
He started to thing about something he can say, but then suddenly he heard:
- I'm dying. 
So he could hear. And he could talk. And... he was dying? What does it mean, dying?
He remembered. That existing is useful. You can remember. If there only wasn't heat, pain, thirtiness, blood... but then there wasn't existing. Because dying is to... stop feeling, hearing, telling, remembering.
Die means close eyes.

The price of existence is great.
"I only want to - thought he - remember something. Something small, something last. I want to remember another human. I don't know how he could look like. Look means being seen".
He felt the time again. Little less heat, more pain, more thirstiness. Less blood. Less sand. Same smell. And sun... all the time.
That's natural, that's existence.
He remembered.
Last, tiny memory.
Sky, grass and sun. The sun was human. He remembered it and he knew it, because that sun didn't blind him and he didn't feel the heat. This sun was warm, sweet and cold.
He wished he could see it. Not only remember, but see. He wished he could feel something with it, one tiny feeling, like heat and cold, tiny smell or something completly new. But how to do it? He didn't know where is this second human, he didn't know how to get close to him.

That's why he felt time again, because he could always feel time.
And he remembered again, but he thought, that he wouldn't like to remember this. There's no way to second human. It doesn't exist any more. There's only one way before him, uncertain and unknown.
He didn't fear. He couldn't remember what fear is. He couldn't remember the way too, and he'd probably fear if he could.
"I just haven't remembered it yet" - thought he - "And I would wait until I do, but I don't like time anymore. I remember that it took another human from me. And he gave nobody else. Only heat, pain, blood, sand, smell, water... thirtiness. I won't wait for time. Time is bitter as the sand, blinding as the sun, sharp as the pain and heat and implacble as the thirstiness."
I will remember the only way.
Maybe he should feel time, a bit more, but he wanted to be free. And he thought, that the way he couldn't remember, will set him free.
That's why he didn't feel time anymore.
He closed his eyes.