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That's all you hear. The echos never stop, never cease. You like them. You like them..

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You see white- its all that exists now. White, blinding lights, and pills. So many pills. Little white pills. Everything. White. You know it should scare you, but it doesn't. Nothing does.

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The only contrast to the stifling light is a clock. A clock.

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You're numb. And you don't know why.

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Another day. Or year. Or second.

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Routine, routine, routine.

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You hate the little white pills. You hate them. You hate who gives them to you. You hate the silence. You hate the white. You HATE the white.

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One day, (or year, or second) there is a routine change.

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A visitor. For you. They're color. Not bright white. But you are.

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They says they know you. You don't know them. You hate it. Not knowing. You hate them. Just like the little, tiny pills, only you can't hide this under the mattress.

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They say they can fix things.

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You don't care.

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You pretend you care. Oh, you're such a good girl. You care, you're getting better. You're playing pretend. You don't care. No one cares. It's all white.

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They come back. They say they can get you away. Away from this place. They can get you out. And they will. You know they're serious, because you're not used to anything from them.

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The white ones take then away. You don't see it. You don't see anything.

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They don't come anymore.

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You don't care. Now they're blinding white, just like everything else.

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You love the pills.

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You love the silence.

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You love the white. You LOVE the white.

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