files of the stalker: my head told it to shut the fuck up.

On my back I spread my arms and legs slightly until I touch the sides of the box, it’s a tight fit and the lid is inches from my face. Most would panic -- I am home in this space, its 3:20 and I close my eyes.

This exercise I started some time ago exploring how to rid myself of these inane fears: darkness, tight spaces, the unknown. Time wasted on books, seminars, therapists who couldn't prescribe drugs and psychiatrists that could. Out of shame I locked myself in that time release box, watertight with a tube and pump for air and weights to make sure it did was it was supposed to: stay the fuck down.

Secluded lake, reliable power source, back up generator, multiple air tubes feeding into what can only be called a casket, tang, no food , piss bottles and the timer set to force open the lid after the count down from 10,080 minutes.

My list was complete. I found the courage to change the things I could, accepted the things I could not and I am wise enough to know the difference; who needs god when I have me.

I sat naked in front of this thing since I set it up at dawn and my body continued to protest. It wailed inside me, but I paid it no mind. Laying down I brought the lid closed. The latches shut hard, the timer began its countdown, the air pump kicked in. My heart pounded while my head told it to shut the fuck up.

The rig to drop the casket into the lake was taking too long and my heart got louder, my breathing got deeper and the fear consumed me. My head had lost control, but it didn't matter, I had this beast where I wanted it -- and the casket released then slowly sank and gently rested itself against the bottom. Dark, cold, quiet, alone; half my senses were useless and without stimulation.

I reason with myself about how safe this truly is, but end in a cycle of screaming, crying, fighting, vomiting, shitting, pissing -- my body let itself go, until my head shut it all down and I passed out, I think it was 180 minutes in; I didn't bring a watch on purpose.

Her alarm sounds and my eyes open as if I could see anything inside this dark box. She smacks at the clock trying to shut it off and knocks it to the floor, almost sounding like it lands on my head and the alarm vibrates through the floor board. The TV turns onto an unnaturally happy anchor announcing that it is 6:00 AM and the much too warm temperature for this time of year -- it really should be snowing.

The floor creaks slightly as she stands up out of bed. His heart beats faster from the excitement, but my head tells it to shut the fuck up -- my heart listens.

He peeks out slightly to see her. She's pacing from spot to spot, closet, bed, bathroom, each with a short stop before moving to the next. He reaches up to his face, to smell the fabric of his souvenir. The morning routine; it’s his first time seeing it. He plans on seeing it again.

He trails her movement through sound. The floorboard lowers flush again concealing the space he's built, the new casket under her bed; a timer has started a count down.