The Walls Of This Room

It's a strange existence, really.

To wake up in a bed that you briefly believe is your own, only to gather your bearings, wipe the sleep fog from your mind, and remember that you are in a small room that is not really yours. You have tried to add your personal touches, in hopes that it will soften the appearance of the painted concrete and make your unusual stay bearable, but nothing can truly hide or change the hard edges.

The morning light is beautiful but deadly; your room will soon become an oven if you don't close the blinds. Nothing in your proximity can really provide relief from the sun's heat, but you convince yourself that any little thing can help. Drink as much water from your bottle as you can, and splash the water feebly trickling out of the faucet with as much vigor as you can manage.

Logically, you know this paltry existence will not last forever. Life was not always like this, and it will not consume all your future days. But the mind grieves for things that used to be, for the safety of old habits and experiences. It asks for anything that will distract from the unpleasant moment, and though you may find relief for the next minute or hour, your heart will meanwhile retreat further into the depths of your chest. Your senses will become worn down, until even great events will not strike through the insulating layers of fog around your heart.

Even as you wait in line, silently dreading what cheap meal they will hand you in a box this time, you cannot help but wonder about the scars that have already formed, and which ones will cut even deeper into you as time passes. At this point, it is impossible to make it through this period unscathed. But what would you have been like if fate had not molded such a drastic path? Where would you be right now, in a different world?

Perhaps it truly is pointless to dream about the what-ifs. These different scenarios are just weights for the heart and poison for the mind. The universe has backed you into this corner, and now you must push through it.

As long as you don't catch a fever, you will survive.

Somehow.