The Flower Garden

The Weight of Silence

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter, tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther... And one fine morning

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to pierce right through Haru, making his eyes ache and tired. Blinking rapidly, he tried to adjust to the harsh brightness that accentuated every corner of the room.

His head felt heavy as if filled with cotton, and the world around him spun in slow, nauseating circles. This wasn't the first time he had found himself in this place, yet the disorientation felt as fresh and unsettling as ever. Haru leaned against the cold, smooth wall for support, trying to steady his breathing.

How did I get here? Again...but this time I think they gave me different medicine...

The scent of disinfectant hung in the air, mixing with a faint, unsettling aroma of stale food and antiseptic cleaners. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably, adding to the growing sense of unease. Haru's vision blurred intermittently, making the already clinical environment appear even more surreal and distant. He felt like he would throw up in a second.

A nurse passed by, her footsteps echoing softly against the linoleum floor. Haru tried to focus on her face, to ground himself in some semblance of reality, but his thoughts drifted like leaves in a gust of wind. He couldn't quite grasp why he was here again, why the familiar routine of sterile walls and hushed voices was unfolding around him once more.

Closing his eyes briefly, Haru took a deep breath, hoping to dispel the lingering dizziness and confusion. Yet, each inhale brought with it the reminder of this place where time seemed suspended, where his thoughts seemed to echo endlessly within the confines of his mind.

He knew he needed to find his bearings, to face whatever had brought him back to this place of clinical calm and muted emotions. But for now, all he could do was stand there, feeling the weight of uncertainty press down upon him like the weight of the world itself.

He looked at himself reflecting in the window. The sterile white hospital clothes with their bizarre, colorful patterns made him feel like an outsider in his own body. His left hand, now bearing the identification band with his name; Lee Haru, felt like a cold reminder of his existence, something he couldn't escape from.

He was alone in a stark, dimly lit room with three beds. The other two beds were unoccupied, their shelves cluttered with personal belongings that hinted at the presence of their previous occupants. Haru's shelf, by contrast, was almost bare, save for his red notebook and a pencil lying next to it, the only remnants of his life outside these walls.

He knew this hospital, especially the psychiatric ward that he was in right now, he knew the rules, no sharp objects, no sneaking food, no self-harm...

The last one was the hardest for him, and this time he really wanted to disappear, it was stronger than ever, the feeling of emptiness after losing his everything. He felt that when Haneul disappeared he lost someone that he could truly love, without any condition. It was a beautiful feeling that grew within him every day since the accident on the bridge.

The bridge...

He stared at his reflection in the window, his hollow eyes searching for some semblance of himself in the glass. His reflection was an unpleasant view for him.