The clock ticks. I'm not sure why. It breaks that silence. The one thats everywhere. Its the only thing that matters, isn't it? The silence. The stillness. No thoughts, no feelings. Pale, featureless surroundings. No thoughts, no feelings. Its better that way. A smooth surface that stretches on forever. Eternal. Safe. Calm. Light. Shining with purity. Only they can't allow that, can they? Peace is a myth. I have to be thrown in. In the walls that loom over me, the ones who want to suffocate my very existence. The surroundings are dark and crooked. Bodies press upon me, all of us having been labeled sinners long before we knew what that meant. I wonder if it's always been that way, if I've just dreamed my reality away for so long. If I really am just a dark and dirty creature that belongs here. That doesn't deserve good. And as I claw at the stone walls closing in on me, threatening to rip away my very breaths, I ask “why am I still alive? How am I still breathing? What let me make it this far?” And the wind whispers through the daylight and the eve, slithers through the gnarly fingers of the trees and the gnashing teeth of the mountains, and brushes my ear and breathes a reminder in my ear. That darkness is eternal, and that light is what is temporary. Some people say that the darkness is swallowing them but if the answer to my life is that darkness is eternal does that mean that I was created from the darkness? Does that mean that for me to survive I must shuffle in the shadows, in the gray area, the places that I've always dreamed to escape? Does that mean that when I reach out my cursed, twisted hand out, reaching for the wriggling fingers of the light, the illusion for purity, our metaphor for beauty, when I grasp at the hand of the light of my life, my reason for existence, my best friend, that I will surely dissolve into a dust, that I will be carried away by the very wind that reminded me of my fate? Does that mean that I am cursed to suffocate for lack of joy? No thoughts, no feelings. No thoughts, no feelings. There are the walls. There's not way out. I can only pretend that I'm allowed to be happy. My fantasies are so simple but I need complicated to pass the class. Not allowed. No thoughts or feelings, just the walls. That's all that's ever been there.