I'm still laying here. Still. It went off an hour ago.
But it can't make me move.
You know, if you lay here long enough, you begin to shrink. Ever so slowly. Getting smaller.
The ceiling fan will get bigger. Everyone knows that.
But you can't make me move.
I'm stuck here of my own accord, weighted down.
I couldn't move if i wanted to, but I don't.
I can't make me move.
You can't make me move either.
You can't make me walk through the walls and get out. The walls are my friends, and I won't move. Maybe if I shrink small enough, I could slip through the cracks in the floor.
The walls wouldn't notice me and feel betrayed by the cracks they made pulling away from me.
maybe they would still be harmonious.
And I would still lay here.
Maybe if the room wasn't spinning.
(Did I push the walls away?)
Everyone knows the room will spin.
as you get smaller. Everyone knows and I could tell you.
But you can't make me talk.
I could be in front of the mirror not knowing how I got there or the roof could be taunting me with what I hate.
You see yourself there. Reflected back so shabbily.
At least the mirror can't see the truth.
Something's thinner today.
Something is missing, something you've lost.
Probably nothing you ever had in the first place.
I stand in front of the toilet. Still, I stand.
It does not.
It takes the worse of me, if I choose to let go. But I yield nothing and it gets nothing.
I stand. frozen.
Nothing happens.
It stays bottled up inside me. Burning filth of me.
I can't let it out.
It hurts.
The hole awaits, but nothing comes.
I worked to fill me up, I can't let it go.
I lay here still. I lay here.
You can't make me move, and I haven't.
The room spins and I don't mind.
If I pretend to close my eyes I don't have to let the roof know I see its scathing indictment.
I don't have to face it.
And I can let the walls be, if they are my only friend. I can let them pull away of course. I won't walk through.
I lay here.
The cracks are pretty silent when I pretend to ignore their beckoning. They are satisfied to be in league with the walls in league with the roof in league with the ceiling fan. I still lay here.
You can't make me move.
I'm still shrinking. You don't notice. I don't mind.
One day I will be small enough. Then you'll see. No walls, cracks, ceilings, or fans will be able to keep me here, lying here, waited down. here.
If you are that small, they can't see you. They don't care. So I lay here. So small.
I move with the room, spinning so freely. I spin too, with the room.
The room spins around me and not with me as I spin with the room as it slowly flushes down the drain what it has been asked to hold.
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4 comments:
okay i'm not really sure what you're going for here. Especially in the end where you say, "I move with the room, spinning so freely. I spin too, with the room.
The room spins around me and not with me as I spin with the room as it slowly flushes down the drain what it has been asked to hold."
It's repetitive and contradictory at the same time. Also, I think you should remove the parenthesis. I don't really see the need for them.
It makes me feel drunk. That's what I think of when I read this.
I dunno. Maybe if you explain it more I'll get it. But maybe I'm just to tired for this stuff right now.
Is it about choosing your own direction / being your own person but being held back by what you've been taught all of your life?
I wrote it while keeping in mind someone suffering from severe depression who can't be motivated to even get out of bed. The depression weights him down and keeps him there, and noone can make him move or even talk.
The repitition is for monotony. As the seeminly useless events (the bathroom, the mirror) that show not only he can he not function normally but life is monotonous.
There is also a bit of mental instability to the point of his surroundings becoming alive and what holds him in the room becoming bigger, and there is paranoia as he believes that everything is against him.
THere is also more mental instability/schizophrenia as he refers to himself as you, and contradicts himself while trying to rationalize that his surroundings are on his side while they are really against him.
I guess I was going for a strange breed of insanity.
Also, to clear up the last comment, not only does he begin to shrink, but he thinks he is spinning with the room, although the room wouldn't think so because it s "against" him. the shrinking of the man and the spinning led me to finish the story with the room flushing him, as the man is obsessed with not being able to remove the worst parts of him to be flushed down the toilet.
ok that makes a lot more sense now. i think you should try to rework some of the stuff by adding bits of what you just told me. simply to clarify things for the reader. also the walls closing in part reminds me of star wars. lol.
nerdery.
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