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January 5th, 2013 (8:15 PM).
mmm gurl that 90s
I don't know if this is an acceptable length to a short story, but I might as well try.
I wake up to the sound of the door opening.
"Yes, you. Who else would it be?"
"Time for that time of day."
"Really, is it?"
"Yes, it's when it's time to do that."
"But…I did it yesterday."
"I know. But you need to do it every day."
"Because, it's best for you."
"I certainly don't feel that way."
"Ah, but you see, you're not sensible yet. You have yet to learn."
"But I don't like doing that! It doesn't feel good!"
"Yes, but it's what's best for you. Without it, you would be worse off."
"But what hurts now will keep you from hurting more, hurting later."
"Wha…what do you mean?!"
"What I meant it to mean."
"I…guess that can't be avoided…go ahead…I guess it has to be."
"Okay, alright. Be brave. All you'll feel, is something burning and hurting, but it will be over very soon. And you won't feel the worse thing for a long time to come."
"I hope! It hurts a lot as it is."
"Ow! That hurts!"
"Stop fidgeting. If you don't, I might make a mistake, and we'll have to do it again."
"But it really, really hurts…"
"Oh yes, I know. But it has to be tolerated. The worse thing won't happen, remember?"
"Alright…I guess…I guess it's worth it…"
"Good. Now if you can hold still, I still need to finish it before I can go."
Okay…this hurts…a lot…but…I won't let the worse thing happen! It can't happen! That would be horrible!
That would be painful. Pain is not a good feeling…I don't…like it.
I'm sweating so hard! It's so intense…the pain…so intense, that I'm sweating. This…sweating, feels so refreshing, yet after a while, it feels very uncomfortable. My hair gets stuck to my forehead…not a great feeling.
Yes…it's finishing. I can feel the intense pain go away…I feel a lingering soreness, but I guess it's better than the thing that would have happened, isn't it?
"Alright, I'm all done. See you tomorrow…"
"Bye! I hope that thing doesn't happen to me!"
"Me neither. Me neither…"
And such a pain that must be! What it must feel like to be the person who goes through that pain! And what happens afterwards? I'd rather not think about it…
Well, another day passes…
And nothing seems bad anymore.
I sense a breeze on my arms. It tickles me.
On my sweaty face, I also feel the breeze. It feels…cool. Much like the opposite of what I felt when I got sweaty.
As I become more and more comfortable, I doze off into a nice, calm sleep…
Though, what is the thing that would happen to me? I don't want to find out, but I'm curious.
"What is the use of this? What is the use of all of this?"
"Don't hesitate now…you're so close…"
What is the meaning of all of this? Is this world…mine?
What happened? Where is this happening?
It's a mug. It has stuff in it.
Despite me having no idea what any of my surroundings are, I can still perceive that the sharp, bitter oder coming from that mug, still steaming, is called "coffee".
It's still warm. Warm…that's a pleasant feeling.
I drink it. It tastes…barely tolerable. It's incredibly bitter, and I can't describe what my mouth goes through to swallow it. Why is bitter so frowned upon by my mouth? It rejects the bitter…
All that stuff helps me know what coffee is, but doesn't help to explain any of what's happening. My surrounding's impossibly dark. It looks as if life itself were gone, and just stood there. Standing there, saying to me, "Come to me. I'm tired of me coming to you."
I may not have memories, but I have knowledge. Yet, all my knowledge is refusing to decode what this all means. The world around me is like a world that I would have known, had I still had my memories. Yet, it feels like it's saying, "Good for you. I hope you never leave that spot. You want me to, but I'm not going to."
It's incredibly dark.
Dark, like the coffee.
Dark, like the confusion I'm in.
Bitter, like the coffee.
Bitter, like the world around me.
What is this?
I have been rummaging through everything this person owns. I remember distinctly, that this is a "cubicle". I don't know anything about my life, but I have a odd feeling that I worked in one of those before.
They seem awfully grim. A rat-cage type thing, only able to hold in its dwellers by the fact that cloth…yes, cloth is the word…tastes awful, and that they're being lured in with the power, the same power that I feel, that comes from staying there against your will.
What an awful place! It looks like something bad happened here…pieces of paper, all strewn out across the floor…another person, sitting there, sleeping. He seems so finely dressed, yet he seems to not want to be where he is. He is angry, and looks as if he is angry at everything around him. What does he want, that will make him happier?
Yet, it looks bright. Yes, it looks bright. I can't explain it. Such a grim thought to be in, yet, there are bright places within it. Like the tropical plant. The beautiful tropical plant. It has flowers, these gorgeous, bright pink petals, with yellow markings, and a stem that comes from its innermost parts, reaching out, saying to me, "Welcome! This is what I want you to be. Reach in me, and taking from me is what I want you to do!"
And in the surface of the computer, there is a picture of a man smiling, and posing next to little people with big heads, and a man with slim proportions and an extruding chest. And his body speaks to me, telling me, "I love you. I hope you can be with me forever. Feel my joy, and rest in me!"
It seems grim. Inescapably grim.
Grim, like the cubicle.
Grim, like the power keeping the people within.
Grim, like the confusion I'm in.
Yet bright, like the office.
Bright, like the plants.
Bright, like the future.
I don't care what it is, or what it brings, but one has to wonder…what does this mean?
did u no there r 21 letters in the alphabet
o i forgot 5
Joined Sep 2011
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