Box

I’m never leaving this room.

I’ve no need to, no want to, no desire to.

I might sound like a tedious individual but really I’m teaming with life. I’m an ecosystem that has all the time in the world to flourish! I’m just not sure this room is giving me the ability to revel in my full potential.

The room they’ve given me is so small and bare and boring, not to mention dark. I try to sleep, I try to roll onto my side but it’s too cramped for me to do so. I always sleep better on my back anyway.

You would think the darkness means I get to sleep easily but the cold keeps me up. There aren’t any drafts but it’s constantly cold, I can’t see my face since there are no mirrors and it’s too dark to even catch a glimpse of my own hands but I’ll guess that I’m tinged blue or grey from the cold. It’s the lack of circulation right?

Lying down and staring at the ceiling, I try to work out the number of days I’ve been in here. There are no windows so I’m not able to work it out by the sun but I’m so stiff from not moving or speaking I can guess it’s been quite a while.

I always thought someone was coming back, coming to visit and speak to me but I haven’t heard anything since I’ve been down here; not even the scraping of wood as it bends to let the worms in or the maggots as they colonise inside of me. I can’t hear the footsteps of people above me, can’t hear my mum crying or the roar of traffic going past. I can’t hear much below me either.

If I had known I was going to be this lonely, I would have been cremated instead.

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