Stress led me to stick my left index into my left nostril. It was then that, holding my stomach tight not to throw up, I realized that I was touching the end of a slimy but solid string that went all the way up to where grey knotted matter reigns: that hanging string was in fact my brain which, in some mysterious way, had found its way out to the open air. I took the slime between index and thumb, and pulled. I sensed my brain slowly unrolling. I felt it moving like a ball of wool soaked with water. And the more I pulled, the more that horror emerged, like a tapeworm, from my body.
I used what I had left of my brain to think furiously about every thing, about all the thinkable things in every place and every time.
I only had a few moments left before I completely lost my mind.