This is a creative writing exercise I instigated just so I could have something to write. I took an album and listened to it while writing whatever came to my head. At the end of a song, I started a new section. Here's what I've come up with so far. It'll be pretty easy to guess what album I'm listening to, but I want some feedback on what's going on. ---- I can't see. Everything is black. When I open my eyes, it's like I never did. When I blink my view doesn't change. That is, if I ever needed to blink. In the pure black of this room, there's no need to. The air, stale and recycled a million times over, is free of any dust. Nothing to get in my eyes. That is, until I start rotting away. But until then, I sit. I sit in the black room. I can stand, I can walk, but there isn't a need to. There are 4 walls and no way out. Everything is black. I've tried getting out. I've banged on the black walls. Listened to the black echoes until I just gave up. Stopped trying to climb, trying to claw away until my fingers bleed wet and black. All I know is what this is. Somewhat damaged. Everything is black. ---- There was a time when I knew color. Light. The feel of a cool breeze against my face. That was long ago. I used to take the world for granted. The feel of warmth beneath my feet is but a memory now. Any voice but my own is a dream. When I retreat into my mind, I can see where I used to be. Cold and gray. I was a bitter person. Bitter for no reason at all. I have time to reflect on it and I hate who I was. The world was my bitch and I abused it until it decided to strike back. That was the day. Took me away from everything I knew. All I had come to love and hate was gone. The day the world went away. ---- The time in between was the worst. I think they call it the calm before the storm. The transition from light to dark. From the world I knew to where I am now. The defining moment in my life. Sometimes I wondered if I asked too many question. Or if I had asked enough. Either way, I got no answers. Just the cold hard stare that made me feel weak, frail. ---- I wonder if people out there have an inkling of what I've experienced. This nothing, it's a special kind of hell. Reserved for those who... What have I done? To damn myself in such a way, what did I do to deserve this punishment? This is what it feels like. To live, but be removed from all that defines living. Dying without being dead. I hear things. The walls here don't hold sound. It's almost demonic. Maybe they plan to kill me. I don't know how long I've been here. Maybe they're preparing me. Maybe it's all in my head. Either way, they can hear my cries. They hear me scream and plead. They do nothing. I don't even know what I've done. I don't know much anymore. I know the black. I know the staleness, the sound of my breath, elevated to epic proportions. I know what I wanted to be. I know what I am now. Or do I? Didn't turn out the way I wanted it. Maybe this is how they want it to be. Is this some sort of master plan? I don't know. It hides in the black, like everything else. Confined by these walls. This is what it feels like. ---- I met her on a sunny day. It was bright. When I close my eyes and imagine it, it hurts. I'm blinded by memories. it was hectic, I remember. We didn't get along much. I see slivers of memories. The good the bad, they all mix. Holding on to all of it. The two of us... it lies just beyond my reach. Always running. But it's there. Every hour I sit I can get closer, but not close enough. Always just outside my grasp. She's here sometimes. If I close my eyes I can almost see her face. I talk to her. She's always been there for me. We're in this together. There are times when she talks back. I'm a part of her. And that keeps me alive just for now. We'll make it through. You and me. Yes, we will. For as long as you're here, this black will never mean anything. Nothing. When I'm here, you will be safe. I get it now. It makes sense. You just need to hold out. Make time. Then you will see me again. When will I see you again? Just reach out. I feel nothing. Then I guess you're not ready yet. Where are you going? You should know. Haley? Haley? She's gone. In the black. I feel ragesorrowpainneedlovehatedeathlife. I feel nothing.