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     How did I get here? I can't help the thought. It runs through my head, the same way I'm running through this maze. In the silence, it seems like the question could drown out the echo of my footsteps. I can't tell how long I've been trapped down here. It's getting hard to remember the sky, surrounded by these gray stone walls. So I walk. And I run. And I think. I think about myself. I think about the maze, of course. But more than anything, the thing I keep going back to, that my mind crawls towards without fail, is what am I doing here?
     What's the point of it all, honestly? I can sit and ask myself as many questions as I want, but I can't answer them. And they certainly aren't helping me get out of here. I don't eat. I don't sleep. I can't explain how I can see when there shouldn't be any light. Yet, I don't get hungry, my body doesn't rest, and regardless of the fact that I should be in complete darkness, I can see just fine.
I make a left turn, and come to another dead end. I turn and backtrack almost without thinking now. Sometimes I feel like the maze is toying with me. It seems to taunt me, running me around in circles, just like my thoughts. I make a right at the last turn, and come to another dead end. So I head back to the last turn before that (I think), hurrying away from the sting of failure, the only thing that can really make me move anymore.
     Sometimes, I think I'll never get out of here.
     What am I doing here? Is this Hell? Have I done something to deserve this? It's bleak, but not really what I expected of eternal damnation. Purgatory maybe? I can't say that I'm not the walking dead. "Thy sense is shut, my heart is dead." It doesn't even seem like I can feel anymore. Is it all a test? I remember that I used to love mazes, finding things out, exploring new horizons. Will I be rewarded if I can find my way out? Is there a way out? Am I trapped here, forever? Could I have been a hero, doomed to a terrible fate? Have I been taken by the fairies? Aliens? This place is so indistinct, so vague, I doubt that it's real sometimes. Is there a point or a purpose, a rhyme or a reason? More and more, it seems like it's all useless, that I'm just God's plaything, getting jerked around by the universe, climbing to the teetering heights only to suffer that ever so gentle push off the high wire, that kick in the face that sends me tumbling back down to the pits to climb my way back up again.
     When it gets really bad, I think that maybe everyone in the world is like this, and that there is nothing behind it. No God, no devil, no magic, no purpose for this place, or me being here, or anyone being anywhere. Not that I've seen anyone else since I came here. I can't even remember what I look like. I can look at my body and clothes, but when I don't see them, I can't even tell that they exist, let alone remember anything about them. Sometimes this terrifies me. Most of the time, it doesn't even register. Sometimes I think about killing myself. Sometimes, I worry that even if I can die, I'll still be in this place, wandering this endless series of gray corridors that has become my life. Sometimes, I feel terribly, terribly alone, looking for a truth that doesn't even exist. It seems hopeless, and I want it to end. But I can't stop. I can't let go. I walk through an unending labyrinth, something drawing me to continue on.
     The path I'm on constantly twists and turns, but the forks have disappeared. I speed up. There is only one path left. For the first time, I feel something in my chest. It feels like my body is getting lighter, weightless. My head is spinning. Could this be hope? Could I really be at the end? Will I find the truth? I run, ready to leave this place, ready to never come back, ready for something, anything, to make a change—
     And I find myself staring at another dead end.  I press against the wall, beat it, kick it, punch it, staining it red as a dull pain creeps into my body. Finally, the feeling burns down to embers, then ashes, and I am numb, knocked back to earth. I turn and walk away, accompanied only by the sounds of my steps, and my question.
     What am I doing here?