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I wake up, not having known I had blacked out. The room is light grey, even though there’s barely any light coming in. I am lying on the soft floor, my head spins ever so slightly and I wonder where I am.

There’s no one here. I can’t see anything but walls and something that resembles a door, with a tiny glass: in fact, the tiniest I’ve ever seen glued to a door. And into the main screen of my brain jumps the image, the vivid image of the last time I saw my cousin. Thanks, mother; thank you for implanting that idea straight into my brain.

For a moment, I despair. I see my line and this is the end of it. This is the end of it all: the woman who didn’t update her stream and was locked out to death. Death by ostracism. All at once, it sounds stupid, impossible, and likely: if I think of it now, with my eyes of today, with my current state of mind: I have heard of it in anecdotes and maybe it’s true. I feel as if I were extremely close to tasting it myself: licking this strange leaf of finished life.

I wish there were people here, any people: idiotic, violent people: unbearable, incomprehensible people. And I wish that because if there were any other people here, they would most certainly be of that kind. Maybe I am better off on my own, even though “my own” describes a state and sensation of being out of space and time. I think they were aiming for their guests to feel utterly isolated: a deep dive into nothingness. A deep dive into the taste of being alone in the world. Little did they know I am used to feeling that every single day.

It’s as if a thousand hours had gone by, maybe a bit more; but I am not hungry yet, nor am I thirsty, nor do I wish to go to the toilet, or any of those annoying reminders of our bodies that say: times is passing inside your guts. I hear sounds coming from the outside, muffled voices, and I attempt to finally stand or sit up, but my body defies the order. It’s locked down to the ground and I accept its orders. I am lying down, lying down I’ll remain. I won’t fight it. I await for the voices to come near me, so that I can understand them, so that they can talk to me, if they will, or if they won’t. I wait. I can’t imagine my day-to-day life being any more interesting than this, anyway.

(cerulean)

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