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Stretching
16.12
It happens that after dreaming I woke up in this claustrophobic, empty room.
I’m locked and, to be honest, right now, I don’t care.
There’s a small window somewhere, but it’s too high for me to reach.
I don’t care.
Despite everything being so restrained - and the room so dark - with the little light that comes through the curtains I could find a small, discreet corner where to take care of my basic physical needs.
I miss the sunlight, and the grass outside. I miss the way I was flying in my dream.
I’ve being doing nothing and I feel tired.
18.12
The days are boring and run away like wild horses over the hills.
And they leave nothing.
The room is small and cold and the only joy I get comes from painful memories. They are happy, actually. Distance makes them painful.
I wait until my body gets tired of staring into these empty walls and then I try to sleep again.
It’s quite hard to fall asleep, unfortunately. Laying in the dark with eyes wide opened. Breathing.
You get so alone at times that it just makes sense.
19.02
There is blood over my chest.
Strangely enough, this blood doesn’t bring, now, any kind of despair. It just makes me sad.
Guess that I’ve being hurt for so long, now, that bleeding just doesn’t matter anymore.
If they shoot me now, really, I couldn’t give a fuck.
24.12
So boring, so boring, so boring…
The blood over my chest, sometimes, even seems to be desirable.
Better than only walls, I say to myself.
I had hiccups all day and it was funny. Ha, ha, ha…
I must be going crazy.
01.01
New life for everybody, someone could say.
If I could only hear anyone, that is, who could have said it.
The blood is dry, but it’s still here.
It hurts if I try to handle the wound, so I leave it alone.
I’m so tired of these walls, these curtains and this everything – or, better said, this nothing – that I just wish I could sleep through it. Like the bears.
I’m tired of everything. I’m tired of nothing. I’m even tired of this journal I’ve being keeping in my mind
Something inside of me was broken, and now it’s been left to decay.
16.02
Since a few days ago, there is a street crossing the room. I don’t know exactly when or how it happened. I haven’t being paying too much attention to anything.
Now I can see vultures passing in this street. I can see the shadows of buildings and I can hear noises from the city. I deduct that the walls are stretching out.
I want to sleep.
16.03
Everything seems to be normal now, actually. But it still makes no sense.
I know the walls are still there. No way are they fooling me here, champ. I know it.
This illusion of sky I see is just the ceiling painted blue. And the moon is nothing more than a disgusting vacuum lamp.
I’ll endure this. I must. And though I’m not biting now, while smiling to the vultures I still have 32 teeth inside my mouth.
05.05
I sleep most of the time. My body keeps doing things on its own.
It goes to the supermarket. It goes to the shower and it goes to the toilet.
My body goes to the same place everyday and stays there for a certain numbers of hours, doing silly repetitions.
The vultures seem to approve that.
There’s no more blood over my chest. It’s gone.
There’s no blood, no flesh, no heart and no bones.
There’s just a big, black hole.
I’ve being numb, for sure, but I still remember I want to get out of here. I want to run, to fly and I want to bleed.
Whenever I see a piece of the wall, be damn sure I’ll try to break it.
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