Long Journey Home

Where am I?

Who am I?

My vision's so blurred I can't see a thing. It's dark. I can tell. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel the oppressive weight of darkness. My throat's as dry as dust. My tongue feels like sandpaper. Tastes like sandpaper. There's a strong antiseptic odor in the air. Something's attached to my chest. Something's attached to my head. What's that blipping noise? My head is killing me. I feel weak, too weak to move. If this is death, the afterlife is not all it's cracked up ...