My own little cell

December 8, 2010
I don’t remember how I got in this room but I guess I’m here to stay. The walls are painted white, as well as the floors. I sit down, only because I have no strength to stand. Someone is talking but I’ve given up on the voices, they refuse to do anything but mock me. I have a problem, but no one will help me. The world seems to get smaller, like it’s set away in the corner, and I can see every part of this world so clearly, but it’s not that simple. The voices get louder, calling my name, I refuse to answer. I’m locked away here in my cell, for a time that seems like forever. The thing I miss most is the music, and I try to replay my few favorites in my head, but the voices drown out the lyrics. I feel like there is something I’m supposed to be doing, but my mind can’t find its way to clarity right now. I know I should sleep, I should sleep it all away, so that it all becomes a bad dream. But I can’t sleep. So I’m forced to live in this nightmare, far worse than anything that my mind could create. Slowly, I fade, not to sleep, but into a state of being somewhere between sleep and wake, life and death, beginning and end. I hate this place, though I remember it well, I’ve been here every day for a long time. Inside I fear that I’ll be here until the day I die. Shock and panic stream through me as far away a buzzer rings. Oh well, time to go to the next class and do all this again.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback