The Inertia Among Stasis

I find myself, in the darkest and deepest of the night, pulled into halls. Of the origin, only I can guess. They spiral, boundless into the dark and flickering lights. Faint musings and gushes of wind tickle my ears, urging me to choose a path, a door to go down. I find myself stuck. More halls divide into something new as the wind slams against my back. I remain a statue. Whoosh, slam! A door to my right urges me to make a decision, rumbling and progressing as the halls come to life. The walls shift, morphing into newer caverns, newer doors to open. Down. Down. Down at my feet the floor shifts. I lock my gaze there. I sit, knees tucked up against myself. My eyes twitch as I clamp them shut, my ears numb as I fold them over. Thump. Thump. Thump, and I take a shaky breath and open my eyes. Everything has settled, leaving in place a white room, the same white room in which I found myself stuck a while ago. My eye bags pull down my face, forcing my eyes open. Yet, I stay seated, somehow finding those halls that haunt me in the night and the room of the day one and the same. There will never be an escape. I am forever stuck, glued, and cemented to the ground of the same floor that has comforted me many years before.