Sometimes I’m afraid of the dark. And sometimes I’m not. I learned in time that darkness hides only the things we already know.
Sometimes I’m paralysed by paranoia and overwhelmed by my manias. And sometimes I just push them away.
Why am I going back to the things that chain me to the common reality? Why am I still trying to be human?
I know the answer but I prefer to believe I don’t.
My paranoia and my manias are maybe the only things that truly belong to me. Who can take then away? No one, of course. People use to trap themselves in positive emotions, like love and happiness, but I’ve got nothing left of those inside my heart.
Of darkness I’m afraid only when I overthink, when I ask myself too many questions. The darkness I’m afraid of is in my soul, not outside the window. And it seems like I know nothing about my soul, as it keeps surprising me with indescribable ache. I’m getting used to it, getting brave and fearless.
What am I saying? I’m not getting brave or fearless at all…I’m just pathetically lying to myself.
This world of mine, it was supposed to be better. I promised myself it would be better! I can still remember all my theories, all those things I was supposed to forget.
Pain, regret. Just words, trying to explain what happens, or how we feel inside. Words are not enough anymore, at least not in my case. What I feel it’s something beyond pain and regret, and beyond all the evil in the world.
I chose to be here.
In a small, square room, with an almost comfortable bed, surrounded by white. It is a sanatorium room, exactly like I was imagining it before I got here.
I can’t remember how my voice should sound like, or if it’s the same with the one in my head. The one I’m thinking with. Everything happens so fast, I don’t need to spend time reading every word in my head, because I can see them. It’s chaotic. And interesting. And confusing.
I start to feel cold, because the room’s white overwhelms me. There are so many colours, but they always choose to paint sanatoriums white. It burns my eyes and it cools my soul.
I make an extreme effort to take my blanket and sit on the chair before the window. I stare at a dead nature. I have no idea where exactly this sanatorium is, but the view makes me calm down and think.
Think. Think. Think. Like it’s a good thing.
What I see it’s nothing out of the ordinary, but that window represents, somehow, the only connection I got left with the outside world.
The colours outside are pretty. The five trees that surround a large hollow spot in the ground, that I suppose it used to be a pond, are now disguised in warm touches of orange and yellow. I can still see a trail of green, also most of the leaves have not fallen yet. That means it’s just the beginning of autumn.
The window reminds me that time still passes by in the common reality. So, it’s been a year since I arrived here.
The sun still shines, although I’m empty and numb. How can the sun still shine, after all that happened?
I can’t completely understand what is happening to me and why I chose to be like this. But it feels even worse than in the beginning. Even worse than the time when my reality was still common. I sometimes hear the doctors talking. They think I can’t hear them, they think I am a ghost. But they say that there is something about me, something special. Even though, I think the Director doesn’t like me that much. I never saw him, but I heard people talking about him. He’s cruel and merciless. I’m probably wasting time and space in his Sanatorium. There is no chance for me.
