The White Room

It's not my eyes that burn you, but the fire behind them. The rage that comes from my very soul. It ignites the hatred and sends flames through my skull as my heart surrenders to the pain and memory of what you did to me. The anguish and misery give way to murdering anger.My limbs betray me as I beat you senselessly above the tomb you will soon call home.The irony that the flames in my eyes are the same as the flames that will furnish your dwelling is too much to bear. I collapse in a pool of blood. I'm not sure if it's my blood or yours that surrounds me as I lay in my own insanity.1

But, why do you care? You just happened to stumble across the formations of my mind and were, what? Intrigued? Get out of my head! What do you know of insanity and murder? I've lived it. It flows so easily from my mind and from my heart. I think a lot about the mind and the heart. In my opinion, they're the only parts of the human body that matter. Except, for maybe the eyes. The windows to the soul and all it's misery. Even as your mouth speaks foul lies, your eyes cannot help but speak the truth. But, enough of this. Let's get back to what you want to hear:2

My vision's a little foggy as I awake. I found myself once again trapped in the white room. What's the white room, you ask? To be honest, I don't know. It's description is the same as it's name. The only thing the name doesn't mention is the window. The window that looks out at nothing. Wait, what's that? A metaphor, you say? Not every piece of writing has to have metaphors in it. Some are just simple and literal. I think a true writer doesn't come up with metaphors. The people that read it come up with that bullshit. But, I digress.3

I've been trapped in the white room many a time. And I truly mean trapped. You could say that I've never left. You see, there's no door. Then how do I leave, you ask? I don't. Simple as that. Yes, it's a boring and solitary life. But, you never know when one of those little "surprises" will pop in. What surprise? Oh, you'll see. I'm sure you've been here too. In the white room I mean. Everyone has one. Atleast, everyone that I know. And no, it isn't another goddamn metaphor. Trust me, anything can have a metaphor if you think about it long enough. And I've had a lot of time to think, believe me. 4

And no, I'm not crazy. Well, maybe just a little bit. But then again, everyone has a hint of insanity mixed into their personality. So, doesn't that make me completely normal? Let me think about that for a moment... Me, normal? No one has ever called me that. Normal. I kind of like the sound of it.5

Well, anyway, come and take a look out the window with me. Oh, I forgot. You can't , can you? Oh, well... Sometimes if I look hard enough, I begin to see images. I see all kinds of things out that window that "normal" people wouldn't see. Atleast, that's what they tell me. Who are they? What do you care? What, are you suddenly interested in my life? Who the fuck do you think you are?! You think you can just walk in here, without even knowing my name, and suddenly we're best friends?! Oh, no... I've done it again. I'm sorry, it's just so hard to forgive... I must need my medicine. Now where did I put it... Ah, here it is! Give me just one moment...6

Okay, now where was I? Right, them. Well, they're hard to describe. You see they aren't human, heavens no. I've actually never seen them. But, I hear them. I hear them all the time. They walk through here like they own the place and they laugh. I know it sounds strange, but they do. They never stop laughing. Sometimes, they tell me things. Like how they told me all about you. About how you'll judge me and how you'll think I'm crazy.Well, you know what? Fuck you!! I don't need your goddamn approval! Now leave me alone. Let me look out my window in peace.