1984

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “1984.”

the room is a huge expanse, i can’t see the walls, the floor is white cold tile, there is a cold air conditioned wind gust blowing througout the place, the room is so large it goes on for miles and all i can see is just cold dirty white tile. there are no beds, there is nothing, it is completely barren. i have no one there with me, i’m alone in there.

it’s just cold white and empty, when i talk i hear an echo but it’s not a nice kind of echo that i can make music with it’s the sort of reverb that causes you to not be able to think because your voice is so loud that you can’t think and sing or make any noise at all, you can’t explore, you can’t move, you have to be still and huddle in yourself for the most warmth.  all you have is a tank top and some gym shorts and some tennis shoes which will never smell thank god thanks to the air conditioning. in fact you can’t smell anything at all except for the smell of dust which is being blown at you by the air conditioning system.

you are locked in one spot unable to move, this is my prison, this is my fear, this is where my mind is not wanting to go, completely alone and by myself in a cold bright place that is dusty and old. i’d rather be encosled in a clean warm space with another person i like that i can spend time with forever locked in a prison with them. and island of miserable deserted by space and time and nothing moves, except for me and him.

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