In fact, he didn’t even know who he was, but he knew for a fact that he was a he, that one fact seemed etched into his very being. He tried to piece together anything, but the wisps of memories he still held onto seemed to slip and slide around in his subconscious, unable to form a coherent thought. Even simple thoughts, things that should be easy to recall, seemed to allude him, any train of thought that lasted more than a few seconds seemed to derail into nothingness, much like the void he was in.
The darkness was pervasive, all-encompassing, all-consuming, and every other word or series of words that he could use to describe where he currently was. He didn’t know how he got here, he didn’t know where he was, and he certainly didn’t know how to get out.