The Hospital

Fixed to the ceiling there is a light bulb, shielded by translucent glass, reflecting the light throughout the room. There are no windows in the white room, just a buttercup amber, light fixture out of my reach. There is no variation or interest in the light patterns, just a blanket of light everywhere.

The cell is infinite, never-ending, everything is white, with a tint of yellow. The walls are all the same, the floor is the ceiling and the walls are the floor. There is no such thing as orientation in this room. The walls are like clouds or soft cushions, safe.

There are no door or bars in this cell, it is all the same. The cushions are bouncy so sometimes I run at them. Sprint to get past them but they hit me back like a bouncy castle. Jumping, stomping on the bouncy cushions. Sometimes I desperately strike at the cushions, cry and the cushions, scream at the cushions. “Let me out, let me out!” I shriek and shout. But my bouncy cushions are out of my reach now, I’m restrained by my clothing, not clenchable bars.

I woke in this room, never seeing the rest of the building. I’ll never know where I am nor who I’m with. Silence is all that I listen to, no words from other, not even vibrations. Is anyone else in here with me? Let us be together, whoever they are, company is all that I crave. There is no outside in here just the same old room, how I long for sound of fresh air and the small of blue skies, to run in the woods and hide in the trees. The shape of a door is one of the walls, opening it is impossible, implausible.

I met someone, a figure, we talked for seconds, minutes, hours. It is a creature, a shadow on the wall, who sits with me now, cross legged on the floor. It told me secrets, plots and plans. How to get out and be free. It commanded me to do its bidding, until it went away. Walked back into my mind and closed the cage door. I haven’t met all the people in my head yet but I know I love them all. They make me laugh, manically cackle.

Some days are not all fun and games, those are the days when the room closes in, crushing me, squishing me. Spiders crawl all over the walls and I turn to stone. The walls disappear and I am home again, I’m nowhere again. Floating, levitating in an abyss, falling, plummeting.

They say I’m more than just neurotic. I’m round the bend, off my head, nuts, bonkers. But I’m just me, myself and I. The normal make me afraid but the crazies make me feel sane. The light is so bland, but I explore it anyway, listen to its stories, and traverse the translucent glass it shines through. I poke my head through it, like a window, but I don’t see the outside, I see nothing.