Tales of deep subconscious

Legend has it...

Legend has it that your life flashes before your eyes during death. I would be lying if I said this wasn't true. Legend would be lying if it talked of fond memories, for it's not the past that shows itself on your deathbed.It's the future.

Isn't it strange the way time passes faster unwillingly in contentment, yet takes its time in eternal boredom? It's like a heartbeat. Funny thing, that. We breathe in, breathe out for life. An accelerated heartbeat means exertion, yet the heart speeds up with every inhale. My heart stresses itself to keep me alive. Why bother? When I stop breathing,my heart takes a break. It relaxes. Slows down. Wouldn't it be great if it stayed that way?

A faint thump, perhaps softer than my fluttering heart, flicks the window on the leftmost wall. Stirred out of my thoughts, I turn to the source of of this noise, a frown already forming on my face. A scowl escapes my lips. Snow. It just has to be snowing. Nasty little crystals. They get in the way. Come to think of it, it was snowing that day, wasn't it?

Disgusting.I can already picture the nurses cooing and simpering, admiring the light precipitation as white as the gowns they bear. Snow! They might say, how beautiful. Not to be rude, I might respond:
 -"I'm afraid I simply do not understand your fascination with this event, it is nothing out of the ordinary."

-"And my goal is to help you understand this, fascination".

A smug retort curls round the door. My frown sets deeper into my face.The smart young man smiles back at me. He is tall, and finely dressed in a suit as pale as death, black heels tap tap tapping in patient impatience. Awaiting my reply? Perhaps. Through every one of our sessions, I have yet to give him one. After some hesitation, he shakes his mandarin hair at me. Soft little freckles ride down his face like winter's drops, lit up by the insane emerald lights of his eyes. Grin plastered on his face, he saunters over to where I lie.

-"May I?" he gestures to the stool sitting at the foot of my bed.
Dismissing his gest, I turn my eyes to outside of the window and scowl.
-"No,I would think it best for both of us if you turn around and March right back through that door."

His smile falters slightly with that. I see my joke was well received.Regaining his composure, he paints that god-forsaken smile back on to his soulless face and draws the stool to him. He chuckles slightly as he brushes the dust off its surface and sits. I feel no need to even glance over, I know exactly what he's doing. The same as yesterday.The same as the day before. The same as days and days that have passed in a heartbeat. The seconds trickle by, floating as slowly as the flakes outside.

My heart thumps away. I watch. The wind blows softly, it shows through the way the snow is kicked up and thrown away. These cascades,spinning as if little whirlpools, lull me once again into thought...

How purely white this snow is, I remember thinking. How strange it is, the white appears so much brighter when drowning in red.

I enjoyed that day. It excited me. I was able to blur away the white,their purity, their peace, and replace it with mine. My state of being is far more beautiful, perfect in every way. It's colourful. Who wants to live their life constrained? At a certain stage, the realization strikes that one must either live outside of society's bonds or die of absolute boredom. To save my own sanity, I chose my peace over theirs. Needless to say, they aren't bothering me anymore.

Reminiscing has made me weak. Pathetic. I need to get up, walk away, go talk to someone...

Yet these bindings around my wrists and ankles make this almost impossible. Almost...

Running my tongue along my chapped lips, I tug them into an obedient smirk.My eyes flick over to the rambling "professional". The laugh that bubbles in my throat is enough to attract his immediate attention. My chains clink together with my sudden movement...

Standing over the red-headed, red-bodied sack of potatoes, I frown before fishing a key card out of a coat pocket.

-"You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?" I murmur, leaning down to gaze at my handiwork. "Well, I suppose you don't really need it either way, do you?"

My smile is innocent, and as sweet as I can muster.