you're in a bed. you're dying, but it doesn't feel so bad. you feel at ease. there is nothing wrong with this anymore. you can't understand the fear. it is lost on you forevermore. nothing is better than this moment.
you're in a bed. you're looking up at the ceiling. the fan isn't on. is it? you're thinking. you're imagining that chocolate milkshake in a white, lightly designed cup. you're imagining that place. you ask a question. you ask some more questions. you don't understand why. something feels funny.
you're in a dark room, sitting at a desk, facing the window. it's raining outside. you see your reflection, cut off below your nose by the bright computer monitor in front of you. you look into your own eyes. you feel something. it's raining outside. there's nowhere to go. it's raining outside.
you’re walking around an empty parking lot at 2 in the morning. you’re completely alone. you feel nothing. you don’t understand why you’re there. you feel nothing. do you? do you feel nothing? you decide to ask again later.
you ask again later. you fail to come up with an answer. you decide to ask again later.
you’re watching television. the cartoons are on. you’re watching television. the cartoons are on. you like this one. it’s a good one. you wonder why you think that. you imagine what you might think about this cartoon in 5 years. in 10 years. in 20 years. you imagine what it might be like to make it that far. you imagine the cartoon character talking to you, you imagine it telling you it loves you. you imagine yourself far away, where the cartoon characters are. you imagine what they would tell you about their feelings. you imagine their life up until this point. you stop imagining. you realize this never happened. you realize this never happened. you realize this never happened. you realize this never
you’re running around at a park. it’s hot outside. but you don’t care. you run through the water fountains. you roll around in the grass. you pick up a wood chip and inspect it for a moment before tossing it aside. it’s 6 months later, and you’re at the same park again. you pick up a wood chip and inspect it for a moment before tossing it aside. it’s your birthday today. you sit down at a bench to open your presents and eat your cake. it’s yours. you will never remember this again.
you’re looking at a computer screen. you’re looking at the pictures again. you’re thinking about it again. you’re feeling it again. the feeling gets worse and worse. you want to scream, but you don’t. you’ll never escape. you cry yourself to sleep.
you’re looking at a computer screen. some of the feeling is gone. some of it isn’t. you feel anguished. you feel a deep sense of dread. you feel confused. it’s happening again. it’s happening again. you look down at the floor.
the floor. the floor. the walls. the... walls. it looks like
it looks like the walls. it doesn't look like anything else.
oh well that’s the wall, it’s a wall isn’t it. it’s a wall. you don’t understand why it is a wall. it doesn’t tell you anything about itself. the wall does not respond. the wall refuses to move. the wall refuses to change. you fail to understand this. you failed to understand this, and now there is a wall. there is a wall. you don’t get it, do you? in this world, there is a WALL. you feel the walls crawling. down your back. you feel. smells like wall. smells like wall. WALL blocks the WALL blocks the WALL blocks the WALL blocks the