Through the Wall

Day 59- as mentioned on day 1, I thought the color of the walls were just white. Now the walls look to have a warm hue, so maybe it’s more of a cream white instead. However, the bloodshot eye peeping in through the oval-shaped hole in the wall is still staring. Day 1 I thought the eye was staring at me, but I’ve come to the realization that it is starting through me.

Day 61- I was too starved to document on day 60, but now I just feel buzzed instead. Yesterday at around the time the pipes in the wall start to move liquids, I began to smell paint. Like paint acrylic paint perhaps, whatever kind of paint used to paint walls. The smell got stronger throughout the day and ever since I’ve been buzzed. At least my mind isn’t thinking about food for once.

Day 62- They eye hardly came to peep through the hole yesterday but has been staring now, today for maybe a few hours. It’s hard to tell the difference between hours and days. The hunger came back. I remember on day 1 thinking of food. I used to be reminded of food through the pains in my stomach. But now I am reminded of food when I look at the protruding bone in my wrist. Its almost comical, I used to pray food was taken away from me so I could stop eating and lose weight. This isn’t the way I pictured it to be.

Day 62 ½- clearly i only write daily if not every few days. It might not even be day 62 anymore to be honest, but there is a new noise coming from behind the left wall. At first I thought it could be the pipes? But then the noise had different pitches, sometimes the moaning would be faint and other times it got whiny. I suppose I’m not the only human in here now.

Day 64- yesterday I was too depressed to write. However, i have come to the realization that the thing next to me may not be human. I can’t picture a human making these noises so maybe it is an animal of some kind. I just realized that my pencil is almost running out of lead, meaning i cant cope with this place anymore, writing is my only way of communication, I must savor my few writings and keep the words to a minimum.

Day 65- today was bad. Per usual. The walls shook and the eye blinked at me twice. Today though felt different… like an energy was present, maybe another human? Maybe I…

Day 66- yesterday my pencil broke so i couldn’t finish writing.. But this morning when i awoke a brand new pencil was lying on the murky tiled floor, next to my head. The pencil brought me much joy and replaced the thought of wanting an actual bed to sleep on instead. I feel i have not shared enough about my surroundings lately, but nothing has really changed.

I am still in this cell, at least i think it is a cell, just not sure where i am. The walls are white with a hint of warmth and have markings from my pencil. Where i first awoke in this place all i had was the beige jumper i still have on now and a pencil. Now i managed to obtain more things like the small mattress i have shoved in the right corner of the room, away from the cell door, and of course this notepad i am writing on now.

I’ve noticed that things randomly appear… it doesn’t make sense but bear with me… like for food, i hardly am fed but some mornings i will wake up and there will be a few crackers or some cheese, but again i haven’t been fed in i would think a few days. Just like the mattress i am sitting on right now, it randomly appeared on i would say day 5 when i awoke. Though it would be nice to receive a blanket as i tend to run cold.

Day 67-i fell asleep yesterday even though i had wished to right more, so i will do that now, its not like i have anything else to do. This place is odd, i know there are things in the rooms next to me as i have clearly noticed the eye that sometimes stares at me through the wall, but i don’t know much else about this place. However i’ll say that it has a distinct smell of cleanliness. From some memories when i was a kid i used to vist my grandma in the hospital, and as much as i loved her, i hated to go. The smell was so potent and thick in the air.. it always left me with a headache and zero appetite.

Another thing- ive never had the urge to go to the bathroom all 67 days i’ve been here. Not once.. I can’t comprehend how that is possible but i’ve never had the need to go. I think there is something evil about this place, not just what goes on here, but the energy. How is it i can cry but no tears fall from my eyes? Yes i know i am barely given any water, but on day 1 prior to getting here i used to eat and drink water daily.. Oh and also my hair is shaved. My natural hair is black, and lucious with layers throughout. I would assume my hair is still black but it has been buzzed. I havent seen what i look like the entire time i’ve been here, but i can imagine i don’t look well.

Since i’ve been here i’ve had two versions of myself in my head. The one where i have my long black hair, jeans and a white flowy blouse, with my nails long and painted a soft pink for spring. Oh and i was also wearing ballet flats with mini bows on the tips. I still like to think of myself that way, it was the last time i saw myself, the last time i could properly think straight and eat food. Now i picture myself a monster with translucent skin dark under eyes, moon-red eyes, and sunken cheeks.

I suppose being here has taught me a few things, one being that i took life for complete granted. My relationship with food was never good. I had an eating disorder at age 9 but shortly “recovered” 3 years later, and ever since then it has been a problem for me. But now i have zero food intake and miss the simplest of foods. I miss the crunch of grapes and apples and when the fruit is so ripe and in season that it spits out juice. I miss the sound of swallowing my food and the satisfaction of being full. Screw food i just miss my mom. I wasn’t on talking terms with her for about 6 months and now it is even longer. I wonder if people are looking for me or if they have no clue at all.

My mom used to give me the best hugs, she had this perfume that reminded me of drunken nights from wine in the summer evenings, i can almost taste it. She like me, also had long dark hair, but hers was more shiny than mine ever was. Her fingers were soft and long, the fingers she used to wipe my tears and play with my hair. Our falling out was stupid, i thought i was right, even though i wasn’t and now our relationship is stuck like that forever because i know im stuck here for good.

Day 70- it’s taken me day 70 to finally lose my mind. I feel like i’ve reached this state of euphoria and my memories are flaunting throughout my mind and i miss more than anything my touch of a human being……

Some time later?- maybe 10 minutes ago as i was just writing wheni noticed a small dot in the crease of my arm right in the middle of my vein. The faintest of yellow and purple appear around the dot. I think i am being held here by people who know what they are doing to me and god knows who else is here. I feel weak during the day and suddenly it is like i am replenished the next morning only to repeat the same cycle again. The only thing that comes to mind is the fact that someone is holding me here keeping me weak and… testing on me? Why else would i be in what must be a cell and wearing these prison clothes.

Day 71- a new observation. I never remember falling asleep or even trying to go to bed. I only remember the way i feel way i wake up, it’s kind of like a really innocent high. So far the eye has been watching the entire time i’ve been up. Oh and good news, i have received a blanket. Its a bland beige color, just like my jump suit.

If i had to take a guess i would say i have been awake for maybe a few hours. I feel like i have a tiny sliver of my personality back, in my mind i feel slightly more optimistic than normal. Which is honestly a miracle considering ive been here for so long without sunlight an hardly any food. Speaking of food, i havent felt the need to eat for the first time in some days which is nice for a change.

I remember reading books. I was usually the kid in the back of the classroom reading when i was little and still in school. The first time i picked up a book was at my local library, i can remember the smell faintly through all this strong hospital smell. It was kind of bland maybe even a little musty but that made sense because the books there were much older than i was. I wonder how those books are doing now. Some are probably in the trash, and others are most likely gross and sticky from years and years of kids touching them. Unless kids don’t go to libraries anymore..? One thing i do miss about books wasnt even the story itself but rather the feel of holding a physical book. I liked to flip the pages and feel the crispness of the paper between my finger and thumb, and then i’d flip the page over once more.

Day 72- even though i’ve pretty much lost my sense of time, today it feels like i woke up in the early morning, yet again i don’t have a window here. The bruising on my arm has gone down a little. Today i noticed the texture on the walls. First off they are cold and have a dusty film when you run your fingers over the small bumpy wall. I suppose being in here makes me pay closer attention to my surrounds. If i ever return back to how my life was before, i just know i would stop and take in the little things. Again i have realized i have taken my life for granted.

Day 120- I think the new one can see my through the hole.

Day 129- She keeps writing. Just like I did before.

Day 73-I flipped through the crinckled pages of this notebook just as i used to flip the pages in the books i read as an innocent and free child. I have stumbled upon journal entries with days longer than I have been here and it’s not my hand writing.

There is no longer an eye.

The hole on the right side of the wall is gone.

But a new hole on the left side of the wall has appeared.

I can see someone writing.

Slowly

Softly

I moved closer to the wall.

I didn’t want to scare her.

She hasn’t noticed my eye yet.

She’s too busy writing.

Just like I used to.