My Room

You enter a room it's almost pitch black, there is barely enough light to see what is in front of your eyes. The ceiling is low that it doesn't allow you to stand straight, must crouch in order to walk. There is no ventilation in it, difficult to breathe, what you exhale is what you inhale. With every breath of air it is more and more difficult to breathe, you're reaching a point where you're gasping for air.

You wonder around aimlessly only to come across what looks like a person, the first, there is just enough light to see its silhouette. The back is so arched that reminds you of that gymnastic position that you used to do back in primary school, (the bridge) that's what's its called. Yet the figure is so stretched and arched that you feel agony just by looking at it.

You back away and wonder around the room till you come across the second figure, it is pushing the concrete wall with all its might, pushing, slamming, trying to break the wall but to no avail. Slowly falls to the ground from the endless bashing to regain its strength. After a while of seeming helpless gradually pulls itself up and starts to break the wall again. Still not even a crack. Helplessness sums it up.

The more you wonder around the smaller the room gets, the walls are pushing in, the ceiling is getting lower and forcing you to crouch more and more. Breathing has become near to impossible. Yet you see the third one on the floor, you can't tell what its doing until you come close enough to see it's laying on the floor clutching its knees so tight and its in the fetal position. You can't help but wonder what its gone through in order to yearn for the beginning point? To return to the point before its existence. How harsh its reality is that it desired its mothers' womb!

You try to escape the room yet there are no exits, no ins, no outs, simply no out. Even a prison is less torturous than this room... This is my prison. This is my world. This is my jail. I'm locked, blotted, and shut in it. I have no means of escape. I cannot break out of it nor make it more tolerable.

My prison is me. My body. My mind. My existence.

The first, is my spine. That's how it feels constantly. I'm in continues pain, it feels like its going to snap any minute now. I'm in pain.

The second, is my will. I am strong. I don't give up. I push and push. But comes a time when I break. I don't have the will to rise. I am so exhausted that I contemplate giving up.

The third, is me. I'm in a battle by myself and there is no one to help me up. What better to do than wish I was some place safe. And there is no where safer than the point before your existence in this harsh world.

My state of mind is rollercoaster of struggle. My body is my jail that I cannot break away from. My will is only strengthened by my faith.

I shall exist till the struggle is over..