The Thresher

I made a machine and stepped inside. 

It looked just like an ordinary box, but from the inside I could see two worlds clearly layed out. These two realities switched in and out, cutting together with my rapid eye movements like wheat through a thresher. 

In one, I existed as I did before entering the box, my life plodding on in the more or less linear form to which we are all accustomed. Familiar faces, places, and experiences swirling in the mix. 

In the other I ceased to be - this reality too was linear, but void of my self completely. Loved ones loved others, children born of a different father, a wife with a different husband... and everything seemed fine. 

I couldn't choose. The question inside that metal closterphobia chamber was the same one on Hamlets lips: "To be or not to be." 

In the end, I chose neither and stayed, dead and alive, inside that box forever. 

End.