There is sunlight coming out the window. I have no idea what day it is, or what time it is.
The sink's blocked again.
You know when a girl starts smiling to herself for no reason, and that smile is ear to ear that looked like its stapled in place she's gone...
she's gone...
Psycho. My mum called me that once.
People always say teenage years are turbulent and have you feeling manically happy and then sad then angry but I always knew this was not true. There's nothing that restricts this to the age limit of under eighteens. You'll feel like this your whole life.
Suddenly there's a bowl of cereal in front of me. Pale and wheat coloured. White liquid.
I think I poured it in.
Cereal lasts a long time. I had nearly finished all of what was in stock in my pantry. My pantry is huge. It's endless, metaphorically. Not as endless as some other things. At least I know where the back, right and left walls are.
The expiration date is in two and a half weeks. It's okay. More will appear.
I highly recommend this house's water. It is the purest, freshest water you'll ever taste. Every other tap will taste bad. However, I am not sure where it's sourced from.
I describe time through colours as the only reference I have is my window.
First, deep blue.
Followed by, baby blue
Then, ocean blue
Orange, occasionally pink.
Deep blue again
Black.
It is black most of the time. Pitch black. I need to use my hands to feel my way through the corridors. It's odd. A house with no furniture or obstacles, just pristine, glossy white tiles that go on for hundreds of metres can somehow be so dangerous.
I try not to die with blunt trauma to the head - from either slipping a few metres and hitting the rock-hard floor or hitting a robust wall. The rooms' lengths were inconsistent. Some are long. Some short. In the darkness that seemed to have no end, a wall would appear in front of me all of a sudden. Blind, I kept my hands out, feeling the same anxiety as falling into a deep dark hole. Or perhaps my death would be slipping into one of the vast poolrooms. Choking on chlorine until asphyxiation.
Maybe I would never die. We are afraid of being alone, scared that no one will rescue us if we need help and that we have no one to talk to. It is unsettling. If one thinks clearly they will understand that they do not require help as most 'hazards' in life are caused by fellow people. The irony is that it is the safest here, where the floors are endless and have no beginning or finish. No one will rob me or stab me. Nothing here has the motivation to rid of me.
I think the most frightening....
the most
f-frightening part.
Was that if I died, no one would discover me. My dead body would lie in the middle of the glossy tiles forever. Probably would not even rot, due to how sanitary this place is and how sanitary the food fed to me is and the sanitizer dispensers and my sanity running like a life support machine.
My death hangs in the air like a floating button. I could choose to press it, but I usually choose against it.
Well, 'usually' is incorrect. I have always chosen against it, the proof being my continued existence that allows me to write this. If I passed away today, who would become the highly successful prime minister and businesswoman, time travel, build an entire empire and invade alien worlds and travel at the speed of light?
