Chapter One
I am not amused.
My face, for a better lack of words, is horribly disfigured. The only person who wanted to be close to me, even if it was a twisted version of love, has left me, unable to cope with what I have done. The authorities didn't find my actions very amusing either. After I was released from intensive care they had a few questions, and I had too many answers for my own good. As previously stated I am not amused.
The human body is capable of all kinds of self inflicted wounds. The amount of damage one can survive is simply amazing. Now the amount of psychological damage one can take, in contrast, is very minimal. My disfiguring injury was easy to get over. The sad realization that I was the direct cause of it, was not. I blew up the biggest credit card companies headquarters and didn't feel an ounce of regret, I lost the one woman who wanted me and I felt nothing. I lose half of my face by simply pulling the trigger and I still feel it was necessary.
The only regret? I miss Tyler Durden.
I have been locked in a padded room for the last nine months. I call it my womb. Today I am going to walk out of this cell and feel the fresh air against my face. I am to be born today.
The judge felt I had a severe break from reality and with my self inflicted wound, which he mistook for an attempt on my life, went easy on me. What he didn't know was that I didn't try to kill myself I just tried to kill a part of me. He sentenced me to nine months of psychiatric evaluation and incarceration. Since Tyler was gone, I received a clean bill of mental health when my evaluation came up.
You may be asking yourself what has become of my minions, my little space monkeys if you will. They disappeared. I can only assume that Tyler had given them specific orders that upon his incarceration they would execute. Maybe they went underground, went into hiding. They still could be out there causing mayhem. I find it hard to believe that after their awakening, after Tyler gave them a reason to live, they would go quietly back to their nine to fives. Either way they have not contacted me. As far as I am concerned that is for the best.
Nine months of talking to only psychiatrists will give you perspective on the choices you have made. I realized that project mayhem was too big for one man to lead. Only if everyone acted on their own wishes and whims would true anarchy be achieved. What is organized anarchy but a form of government. That just defeats the purpose.
No, I like to think of them out there, causing damage to society one brick at a time. Spreading their disease through the system and killing the American dream one day at a time, one life at a time. But then again, that could be wishful thinking.
Tyler Durden. Tyler Durden. He is all could think about while I was inside. I was Tyler Durden. Or was I just his whiny alter ego? Inside I had all the urges he had, all the dreams he had. Hell I had even shaved my head like he had. But I lacked his spirit. I know what your thinking, his spirit was my spirit yada yada. But the fact of the matter is I can't seem to function like he functioned. I lived in that run down house in the middle of the slums, but he lead me there. I hated my apartment and felt like it was a prison, but he freed me. I loathed my job, my coworkers and my boss, but he gave me cause to take action. I was nothing without Tyler, every step or action I took was directly influenced by his sick mind. Without him, I felt without direction. Hell, maybe I was just a space monkey myself.
I was his sidekick. It was his vision I lived. Maybe I was his alter ego. Without his influence, when I step out into the sun once again, what do I do. Ill be in a different kind of prison then.