From dust (and to dust return)

I remember being nothing, broken down to dust, my abstract existence shredded like paper, somehow in pain despite lacking nerves to feel with or a brain to process the signals. I remember the emptiness, the void that waited on the other side, the months of isolated existence, darkness without color. I remember waking, as if it was all some terrible nightmare, some terrible dream, but I knew the truth. Somehow that place has been ingrained into my very soul, if it remains intact at all. I wish I had never remembered. I wish I had been allowed to cease to exist instead.